


Finding Family

by JumpStreet



Category: Pitch Perfect (2012), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, But with some Teen wolf thrown in, Human AU, Minor Violence, Mostly Pitch Perfect, Multi, Probably ABC, minor abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-04 05:49:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1767796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JumpStreet/pseuds/JumpStreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Beca was twenty, she gets accepted into Barden University, one hour away from her brother Stiles, and four hours away from her father. She gets accepted into Barden and she meets seniors Chloe Beale and Aubrey Posen. It's the best thing that happens to her since she broke a football player nose for beating up the Sheriff's son. Especially because both times, she gets a family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

 

 

 

 

 

 

I.

 

When Rachael was ten, her father took her to a formal dinner for his University where he taught as an English professor. All of his colleagues cooed over her in her adorable pink dress and her carefully braided brunette hair. They listened indulgently to her cheerful discussions on whichever book her father was teaching his class that particular semester, smiling when she mispronounced author's names or confused the book titles.

 

They laughed when she convinced the Dean to dance with her after the food was gone and were impressed when the ten-year old even managed a half-way decent waltz. All of the staff at her father's University loved little Rachael with her sparkling navy eyes, her grown-up attitude and infectious laugh. The dinners where her father brought her along were always their favorite. They always told her father to bring her to the next dinner or event and he always obliged.

 

* * *

 

When Rachael got home a few hours later, her father pushed her down and started kicking her so hard he bruised three of her ribs. He kicked her because she accidentally spilled a glass of water on Miss Kiran, the University's Abnormal Psychology professor, even though Miss Kiran smiled at her and said that it was okay, everyone has an accident or two.

 

Rachael was expecting it. She couldn't remember the last time her father hadn't hit her for embarrassing him, accident or no. She was just never good enough, always messing everything up, no matter how hard she tried to be perfect for daddy.

 

Her mother walked in on the beating half-way through. She stared at them for a few moments then turned right back around and drank half a bottle of vodka before going upstairs to bed. Just as Rachael couldn't remember a time where her father wasn't hurting her, she couldn't remember a time when her mother stopped him. She would just drink and drink until she could pretend it wasn't happening. It never worked.

 

Her father finished hitting her a few minutes later and threw her in the closet and locked the door. It wasn't the first time Rachael would spend the night in the small dark space. Bad girls didn't deserve to sleep in their rooms.

 

She hated it in there, hated how it felt like the walls were closing in on her and eating her alive. Each and every night she spent forced in the closet felt like her last night on earth. But eventually morning would come and her father would open the door and Rachael would promise over and over that she wouldn't be bad anymore; she'd be a good girl just like her daddy wanted. He'd grunt and tell her to get out of that ridiculous dress and make me my damn coffee.

 

Rachael never screamed when she went into the closet, never begged to be let out, not anymore. Because when she screamed and cried and begged, her father would throw her in the car trunk instead and that was much, much worse. It only took five times in the trunk to learn her lesson and be quiet. It was four times too many.

 

Her father still put her in the trunk when she was really, really bad.

 

In there, she always screamed.

 

* * *

 

II.

 

When Rachael was thirteen her father divorced her mother. He signed away all parental rights towards Rachael and kicked her and her mother out of his house. Two months later, he was married to one of the Biology professors at his University. Rachael felt betrayed. Miss Tokly had been her favorite of daddy's colleagues. Apparently, she had been daddy's favorite too.

 

Rachael's mother, Judy, picked them up and moved them out of Georgia to a small town in Florida near Tampa called Beacon Hills. They got a shoebox apartment for average rent and Judy got a job at one of the clothing stores in the mall. She'd pick up as many shifts as she could to afford the bottles of liquor she'd down at night. Her alcoholism rarely left enough money to pay for rent and other necessities.

 

Rachael was often forced to steal portions of Judy's paycheck and store it away so that Rachael could pay whatever bills she could, as Judy was too inebriated to do it herself. Judy never noticed Rachael struggling to keep them afloat. The thirteen year old spent all her time cleaning, cooking them meals when they could afford food, doing their laundry and throwing away the numerous empty vodka bottles that littered their apartment. She didn't go to school, only because Judy never got her enrolled in the local middle school.

 

The woman was too busy drowning in alcohol and anger and self-pity. As badly as Rachael's father treated them, Judy had been dependent on him. She loved him with all her heart and the fact that he just tossed her aside like yesterday's trash ruined her. It destroyed any happiness she had and left an empty husk of a drunk behind.

 

Judy never blamed herself or Rachael's father for the divorce and the following implosion of her life. No, Judy blamed Rachael. Everything was fine until the little fuck-up came into their lives. If it wasn't for Rachael, she'd still be happily married in her own damn house instead of in this shithole of an apartment in this shithole town and it is all your fault, you little  _bitch_.

 

Rachael spent every night wishing that her father had kept her instead of abandoning her with her mother. It wasn't that she loved him more. Rachael had realized a while ago that she didn't love her father, didn't want to love him. She realized that he was a terrible person and that she didn't need to impress him, she didn't need his approval or his love because he would never give her either. He didn't want her and she didn't want him. Rachael decided she was fine with that.

 

No, she the reason wished she was with Warren instead of Judy wasn't because she loved Warren more. It was because bruises healed a hell of a lot quicker than the words Judy threw at her every single night. Rachael could handle physical abuse. It was bad for a while but the pain eventually faded. She learned what set Warren off and how to avoid it.

 

What Rachael couldn't handle was Judy's verbal and emotional abuse. Everything set her off and there was no way to hide from the spoken barbs that Judy constantly dug into her. Rachael couldn't run away from the echoes of worthless, idiot, fuck-up that followed her for days, even after Judy finally blacked out for the night.

 

And yet, every night Rachael would clean Judy up and tuck her safely in to bed. In the morning, all the empty bottles would be thrown away and a glass of water with two aspirins would appear on Judy's bedside table. Breakfast and hot coffee would be waiting on the kitchen counter and Rachael would be nowhere to be seen until Judy came back from the liquor store after her shift, where she would find dinner plated and ready to go. The only things Judy said in response to Rachael's efforts were insults.

 

Rachael just tried harder.

 

It took a lot longer for her to realize that her mother didn't love her than it did to realize her father didn't.

 

When the realization did come, it also hurt a hell of a lot more.

 

* * *

 

III.

 

When Rachael was fourteen, she came home to the apartment to find all of her belongings strewn across the landing. She tracked down the landlord and demanded to be told what was going on. They had paid their rent for the month, why the fuck was all their stuff tossed out like trash?!

 

_Your_  stuff, kid he said. He told her that Judy paid to break the lease agreement, took her crap and buggered off to who knows where. Rachael was shit-out of luck because she didn't live in that apartment anymore and if she didn't collect her shit and scram, it was going in the trash where it belongs and he was calling the cops to remove her from the premises, capiche?

 

Rachael ran back up the stairs and frantically searched the apartment. It was empty. There was none of her mother's clothes, none of her pictures. None of her alcohol.

 

There wasn't a goodbye note. Not even a forwarding address. Rachael was alone. That was the day she realized her mother didn't love her because no one abandons the people they love. Not like this.

 

So feeling like someone beat her emotional well-being to hell, Rachael packed up all her stuff in two duffel bags, stored her second-hand laptop safely in her backpack, grabbed the nearly five hundred dollars in emergency cash she kept hidden behind the kitchen sink. Then she left.

 

It was July 23rd, a month after she graduated middle school. It was also two days before her fifteenth birthday. Rachael didn't celebrate it that year. Or the next. Or the year after that. Or ever again, really. She didn't like the reminder of the day her parents voluntarily made her an orphan.

 

She didn't like remembering that she was worthless.

 

* * *

 

IV.

 

When Rachael was fifteen and half-way through her freshman year of high school, she met Stiles for the first time.

 

That wasn't his real name; his real one was something Russian that only his mom could pronounce correctly. When she died from breast cancer when he was eight, he changed his name to Stiles. He didn't like everyone else butchering the name his mom gave him.

 

He never told anyone else his real name. No one – that is, except Rachael.

 

She had seen the junior around Beacon Hills High before. It was kind of hard to miss the rambling, spastic, ADHD son of the Sheriff with his apparent fetish for flannel and a glaringly obvious obsession with queen bee Lydia Martin.

 

She knew he was on the lacrosse team with Lydia's boyfriend Jackson Whitmore. Rachael always found it amusing that the two were co-captains given how much they hate each other. But being co-captain made Stiles automatically a part of the popular crowd, which was also how Rachael knew about him. Teenagers loved to gossip, especially about the 'cool kids'.

 

Rachael was thankfully not a member of the cool kids club. She was a blissfully anonymous freshman outcast – just the way she wanted it. All Rachael wanted was to make it to eighteen unmolested so she could apply to colleges and make something of herself. That meant graduating top of her class. It also meant that no one figured out that she had been living out of the abandoned train station for the past year, so being noticed was a bad idea. She took great care to make sure she never looked too unkempt, kept her clothes presentable and took regular showers in the girl's locker room.

 

She did a good job of being invisible. So of course the son of the damned Sheriff was the first one who noticed her.

 

She was walking back to the train station in the pouring rain from her job at Frank's Diner (which she acquired with a $200 fake ID and a forged work permit) when Stiles's iconic blue powder Jeep rolled past her. She watched in confusion as it suddenly stopped and reversed to where she was walking.

 

Stiles had the window rolled down and a kind smile in his face.

 

"Need a lift?" He asked and Rachael didn't know how to respond so she just nodded dumbly and got in the Jeep. It wasn't like the Sheriff's kid was going to kidnap her. Stiles tried to talk to her on the car ride over to her old apartment (she wasn't stupid enough to ask the Sheriff's kid to drop her at an abandoned train station) but Rachael didn't say much. It was okay though because Stiles talked enough for the two of them, telling some funny lacrosse stories and quirky anecdotes about the shenanigans he got up to as a kid.

 

When he dropped her off in front of the building, he gave her a wide smile and told her that they should hang out sometime when he wasn't forcing her into letting him give her a ride. He didn't seem phased by her noncommittal answer and even waited until she was safely inside the building before driving off again.

 

It was such a nice thing for him to do that Rachael wasn't even upset that she had to walk an extra half mile through the rain to get back to the train station. The entire time she was filled with a warm happy glow because someone thought she was worth enough to be nice to and that hadn't happened in a very long time.

 

* * *

 

The second time she met Stiles, he was getting beat up by three jackasses on the football team. It was a few days after Stiles had driven her home and while the junior hadn't talked to her again, he smiled at her in the hallways and waved at her across the parking lot. It almost felt like Stiles did actually want to be her friend. It was a novel feeling. Rachael decided she liked it.

 

She never waved back.

 

Near the end of her second period class Rachael was walking to use the bathroom when she saw the trio of football jocks kicking the shit out of another kid she couldn't identify curled up on the ground. She watched frozen for a second before feeling herself getting angry.

 

She still remembered being like that kid lying on the ground while her father stood above her. She remembered that feeling of helplessness and she knew that no one deserved to feel like that. Before she knew what she was doing, Rachael was walking purposefully towards the huddle.

 

When she was about ten feet away she heard the football asses jeering at the fallen kid, saying shit like 'that's what you get for being a faggot'. It made her even angrier because that kid definitely should not be beat and especially not for whom he loves.

 

When she was five feet, she saw the kid one the ground was Stiles. Sweet, friendly Stiles who now had tears streaming out of his eyes and a look of absolute loathing on his face.

 

Rachael saw red.

 

Within seconds she was in front of the ringleader, already throwing a punch that landed squarely on his nose. He reeled back and Rachael followed, hitting him in the same place again and again until she heard a satisfying  _crack_  of his nose breaking. Then she threw a wicked elbow across his jaw that sent him sprawling down the hall.

 

She barely heard the bell ring or the students filling the hall as she stalked towards Stiles's tormentor. She didn't hear the hall fall silent as she placed her foot squarely on the douchebag's chest and applied pressure until he wheezed for breath. She didn't hear how cold and deadly her voice got when she told the fucker that if he ever bothered Stiles again, she'd make his worthless excuse of a life a goddamned living hell.

 

She did notice the people after the football player nodded, cradling his broken nose as it gushed blood. She noticed them as she turned and walked back over to Stiles who was being helped up by Jackson Whitmore and Danny Mahealani. She noticed when she stabbed a finger in Whitmore's chest and told him to take better care of his goddamned team because he doesn't let shit like this happen to Danny so why the fuck are you letting it happen to Stiles?

 

She noticed when a couple teachers pulled her away from the lacrosse players and dragged her towards the principal's office.

 

But what she noticed most of all was the absolutely stunned look on Stiles's face. Rachael wasn't sure what to make of it. So she just stared back until she was pulled out of sight.

 

* * *

 

She didn't regret a thing.

 

Not even when they called the Sheriff.

 

* * *

 

The office tried to get in touch with Judy using the contact information Rachael submitted. It obviously didn't work as the cellphone number Rachael gave was a payphone on 7th and Philips, and Judy's old place of work had records that said she quit months ago. Then they tried to get a hold of her father. He picked up on the fourth ring then hung up the moment they said Rachael's name. She tried very hard not to feel anything when it happened. She wasn't sure she succeeded.

 

It was after that they called in John Stilinski.

 

Rachael wanted to ignore him. She wanted so badly to remain silent and obstinate but the Sheriff had the same kind smile Stiles did and gave off such a feeling of safety that Rachael suddenly found herself talking. She told the Sheriff how when Warren divorced Judy, she turned into a barely functioning alcoholic. How she spent all her money on vodka instead of food and rent, how she abandoned Rachael and sold their apartment without telling her.

 

She didn't tell him about the abuse. Any of it. She still thinks he knew anyway, that he saw it in her eyes.

 

She did tell the Sheriff how she had enrolled herself in middle school and high school, about the fake ID and how she was living out of the abandoned train station. She ignored the horror struck and pitying looks on the administration's faces and focused on the warm blue eyes of the Sheriff, his understanding smile and the feeling of  _safe_. She absently noted that Stiles must have gotten his eyes from his mother. His were a honey color, not blue.

 

Rachael told Stiles's father how his son stopped in the middle of a rainstorm to give her a ride home. To her old apartment building, she clarified when she saw the skeptical look on his face. They both know that if Stiles had known she was living in a train station, she would have met the Sheriff days ago.

 

She told him how today in school she saw a group of guys beating a kid on the ground. How they were calling out homophobic slurs. She told him when she got closer, she saw it was Stiles. She watched the anger in his eyes turn into the barest hint of vindictive pleasure when she described with no small amount of pride how she broke the leader's nose and threatened him.

 

She also saw a healthy measure of guilt in the Sheriff's gaze. Rachael wasn't sure if it was because of the satisfaction the Sheriff got that his son's assailant got his ass handed to him or because of something else. Rachael decided she didn't know the Sheriff well enough to ask.

 

When she was finished talking there was silence. Rachael remembers fidgeting in her seat feeling self-conscious and embarrassed that all these people heard about how she was weak and worthless. It made her angry all over again. She remembers glaring up at the Sheriff and asking rather viciously what he was going to do with her now.

 

She still remembers the shock she felt when he said he was taking her back to the train station so that they could pick up her stuff. Then they could go get pizza before setting her up in the Stilinski guest bedroom. She remembers the alarmed look on his face when she started crying. Remembers the look sad confusion she got when she said that it was the second nicest thing anyone's done for her in years.

 

Most of all she remembers the look of absolute heartbreak on the Sheriff's kind face when she told him Stiles driving her home the other day was the first.

 

* * *

 

The rest of that day was a blur. Everything was snippets of color and sound until she's sitting motionless in her pajamas on the guest bed in the Stilinski household, knees curled up to her chest and staring blankly at the wall. She doesn't startle when the door opens and Stiles slips in, face bruised and painful and doesn't react when he kneels in front of her and gently grabs her hands.

 

She does hear him when he asks her why.

 

"Why did you offer to drive me home?" is her response. His eyebrows furrow and he tells her it was because she was wet and cold and he had a car, why wouldn't he offer to drive her home? Rachael nodded; it was the answer she expected and the answer she returned.

 

"Why  _wouldn't_  I have helped you? You were in pain and you didn't deserve it. I had the ability to help so I did." She tells him. He looks up at her quietly and she knows right then that the Sherriff – John, he asked her to call him John – told Stiles about what she said in the office. She can see it in his eyes.

 

"I wanted to be your friend." Stiles says abruptly and Rachael tilts her head. "Before." He explains. "I saw you when you were working in the Diner and in the library during study period." He looks up at her sincerely. "You were always so quiet. Except it was a sad sort of quiet, like life beat you down and you weren't sure how to get back up. It was part of the reason I drove you home that day in the rain. You looked like you needed a friend. And when we were in the car, you were still quiet but you were nice. You didn't look annoyed with my rambling. And you sassed at me a few times and you were funny and I wanted to be your friend. I meant it when I said we should have hung out."

 

Rachael looks at him with something akin to wonder. "Is that why you kept waving at me in school?" She asks shyly and Stiles nods with a grin. She takes a deep breath and tries to pluck up a string of courage. She ignores the part of her that screams that Stiles is lying because no one would ever want to be her friend, she's a fuck-up just like her mother always said and quietly asks "Did you still want to be my friend?"

 

And Stiles smiles softly and shakes his head and Rachael feels like someone threw an anchor in her stomach. She feels oddly vindicated, like she was right that no one wanted her, that everyone leaves because she's not good enough, she's worthless and –

 

"I don't want to be your friend, Rachael." Stiles says interrupting her spiraling thoughts and still smiling softly. "I want to be your brother."

 

Rachael feels her heart stop and her breath catch. He sees the dumbstruck look on her face and squeezes her hands tighter. "I want to be your big brother. I want to be your big brother and your family and your best friend and I want to protect you like you protected me today. Because you had shitty things happen to you and I have the ability to make sure it doesn't happen anymore. So I'm not going to let it, okay?"

 

Rachael just nods because what else can she do? She can see the sincerity pouring out of Stiles in waves, can see that the junior has decided that something about Rachael is worth making family and Rachael almost can't breathe. It's the best things that has ever happened to her and despite the fact that she knows Stiles and John are good people; she can't help but be doubtful because she's scared.

 

Scared that Stiles doesn't mean it.

 

Scared that he does and that she'd going to mess it up.

 

Scared that the Stilinski's are going to realize she'd not worth it and are going to abandon her like her parents did.

 

Scared that they won't.

 

But Stiles seems to get it because he just keeps smiling and says it's okay if she doesn't believe him. He'll just have to prove it to her. And he will, as often as it takes until she does believe.

 

Then he squeezes her hands one more time before getting up to leave.

 

"Stiles?" Her voice stops him at her doorway. "What's you real name?"

 

She knows it's a personal question by the way his shoulder tense up but suddenly she needs to hear the answer, needs to see if Stiles trusts her. He seems to realize this because he sighs and turns around so he can look at her.

 

"Dad is the only one in Beacon Hills who knows." He tells her and Rachael feels a brief stab of guilt for making him tell her but she still waits expectantly. He sees her hopeful expression and laughs a little. "It's Yevgeniy." He tells her quietly. "I changed it to Stiles when my mom died. She was the only one who could pronounce it without butchering it."

 

Rachael nods, touched because he trusted her enough to share and because she understands. He doesn't want to dishonor the name his mother gave him by having it ruined every time someone tries to say it. "Can I try?" She asks softly.

 

He nods so she takes a breath and speaks "Yevgeniy", feeling the way the sounds roll off her tongue. She nods, satisfied. It's a good name. His mother chose well.

 

She glances up at Stiles and knows he can see the approval in her eyes.

 

"That's the best I've heard anyone pronounce it besides my family." He tells her, quiet satisfaction surrounding him and he smirks. "Guess I chose my little sister well."

 

Rachael beams at him and decides to repay a secret with a secret. "I hate my name." she tells Stiles who stills and listens intently. "It reminds me of my parents and I hate being reminded of my parents. When I turn eighteen, I'm changing it. Legally."

 

"What to?"

 

"Rebecca. Rebecca Rae Mitchell."

 

He nods and Rachael knows he understands. He smiles at her. "Alright. Beca it is. I'll tell Dad in the morning and see if we can talk the school into changing your name on the roster."

 

Rachael looks at him in shock. "You'd do that?"

 

"Anything for my little sister." He pauses for a moment, seeming to have an internal debate before making up his mind. He walks over to the bed and pulls Rachael into a quick hug. "'Night, Beca. I'll see you in the morning. If you need anything I'm two doors down and Dad's at the end of the hall."

 

Rachael nods and Stiles gets up again. He gets to the door before Rachael's sleepy voice stops him once more.

 

"Oh, and Stiles? I'm gay too."

 

She doesn't see the wide smile that splits his face or hear the playfully muttered 'family indeed'. Rachael is too busy sleeping.

 

* * *

V.

 

When Rachael is fifteen, she gets a real family.

 

* * *

 

VI.

 

When she's sixteen, she actually starts to believe it.

 

* * *

 

VII.

 

When she's eighteen she legally changes her name to Rebecca Rae Mitchell. John and Stiles throw her a party. November 14th is her new official birthday. It was one of the happiest days of her life.

 

* * *

 

VIII.

 

When Beca is twenty, she's accepted into Barden University in Atlanta, Georgia. She has enough credits to enroll as a sophomore and does. She's majoring in music and business with the aspirations of opening her own record label.

 

Her brother and best friend Stiles is enrolled at University of Mongolia, an hour away. He's a junior, working towards a degree in Computer Science and another in Folklore and Mythology. Her brother always had been a special cupcake. But he was her special cupcake so Beca didn’t really care that he chose a weird ass minor to study.

 

* * *

 

IX.

 

When Beca is twenty, her life gets turned upside down and backward.

 

Because when Beca was twenty, she gets accepted into Barden University, one hour away from her brother, four hours away from her father.

 

She gets accepted into Barden and she meets seniors Chloe Beale and Aubrey Posen.

 

It's the best thing that happens to her since she broke a football player nose for beating up the Sheriff's son. Especially because both times, she gets a family.

 


	2. Activities Fair (part 1)

I.

When Beca is twenty, she’s a freshman at Barden University with the credits of a sophomore.

 

She’s also rooming with an Asian psychopath who looks like she wants to murder Beca in her sleep. Seriously, Beca is convinced that Kimmy Jin has it out for her, which is ridiculous because Beca literally just met her like an hour ago _maybe_.

 

For the first time since she got on campus, Beca is glad that Stiles and John aren’t here to help her move in. John because he’d just get into a staring contest with Kimmy Jin – the intimidating Sheriff’s stare versus the unimpressed Asian.  Beca’s sad to say that Kimmy Jin would probably win. The girl doesn’t blink.

 

Stiles she’s happy isn’t here because Kimmy Jin looks like she wants to kill anything that moves. Or speaks. Or breathes. And Stiles just doesn’t know how to stop….anything really. Her and her brother would be deader than a doornail in 2.5 seconds flat and not even the Sheriff could’ve saved them.

 

But that’s not to say that she isn’t sad they’re not here. Because she is, she definitely is. Beca understands why they’re not though. They only have one car with enough room to move all their shit four hours to Atlanta, five to Mongolia and that is Stiles’s baby, his Jeep affectionately named Betty. It wouldn’t have made sense to drag the Sheriff up to Atlanta only to abandon him there with no way home. So John was out and Beca understood.

 

And Stiles’s move-in date was somehow a week before Beca’s.

 

So her brother came up first with his stuff, and then came back down a week later for her and hers. He couldn’t stay long because fall training for lacrosse had already started and he couldn’t afford to miss any more than he already had. So Stiles dropped her off, helped unload her stuff, gave her a bone-crushing bear hug, kissed her temple, told her to have a fantastic year, get arrested at least once for drunk and disorderly, call me every Wednesday or I’ll kill you then ran back to his Jeep singing “Flinstock is going to muuurder meeeee!!!”

 

It’s a song he made up freshman year when he first tried out for Mongolia’s lacrosse team and is about their head coach, Bobby Flinstock. It has twenty-three verses and some very creative cursing. It’s Stiles’s favorite song.

 

She has absolutely no doubt he sang each and every verse at the top of his lungs on the way back to Mongolia. He most definitely car danced the entire way as well.

 

Beca adores her brother. She really, really does.

 

She’s still not pleased that he left her to unpack by herself and deal with the totally a crazy, Stiles you can see it in her _eyes_. No, I’m not being melodramatic. Stop _laughing,_ asshole! _This is serious shit!_

 

Beca lasted all of ten minutes in her dorm before she shoved her headphones around her neck and fled to the activities fair. She prides herself on her self-preservation instincts. Except not really, she’s about as good at staying away from trouble as Stiles is, which is to say not at all. It’s probably really sad for a Sheriff’s kids.

 

 (John loves them anyway)

 

 

 

 

II.

The activities fair is more crowded than Beca thought it was going to be.

 

The brunette had processed that yes, this was a college. A rather large one actually, with near 30,000 students so it made sense that the place was crowded. Beca understood why there were so many people. It’s just – Beca wasn’t prepared.

 

She wasn’t prepared for this and now she doesn’t know how to handle the fact that there are people surrounding her on all sides and they’re pushing up _right next to her_ and she can’t get out because they’re _everywhere_ and –

 

Beca pauses and takes a deep breath. Then another and another. She’s okay. She’s fine. She will not have a panic attack in the middle of the fucking quad. There are just a lot of people. She can handle it. All she needs to do is stay near the edges where the crowds are thin enough that they don’t trigger her claustrophobia. She doesn’t need to get close enough that people can touch her. She’s fine. She can do this.

 

The brunette releases the death grip she has on her cell phone and resists the urge to call Stiles, to ask him to drive back to Barden and hug her until she feels better. She resists and quickly walks over to the fringes of the activities fair, carefully counting out her breathes.

 

_In, two, three, four…out, two, three, four…_

 

Beca has had intense claustrophobia since she was a little girl, a remnant of the closet from hell. She also has a slight fear of the dark for the same reason but she doesn’t like to be reminded of it. It makes her feel childish.

 

The aversion to touching was probably Warren’s fault, too. She remembers the first few months after she moved in with Stiles and John. After that hug Stiles gave her the first night, Beca didn’t let either of them within two feet of her personal space. She’d glare and tense every time they got close and flinch when they made any sudden movements in her direction. She hated that she did it and hated the look of sadness on the Stilinski men’s faces every time it happened.

 

Over the past five years, she’s relaxed immeasurably towards them. When Stiles would come home from Mongolia to visit, Beca would tackle him into a hug, wrapping her legs around his waist and not let go for an hour. When he would leave after the weekend was through, Beca would curl up in John’s leather armchair with the Sheriff and fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of safe.

 

Beca still hates it when most everyone else touches her. She’s decided it’s a trust thing. John agrees.

 

The brunette takes a few more deep breathes until she feels the panic abate back to a manageable level. She’s long since accepted that it never goes away, not completely but it fades until she can ignore it and that’s good enough.

 

After she’s calm, the brunette walks around the edges of the fair until she has a decent vantage point over a majority of the hustle and bustle. From there she forms her plan of attack, picking and choosing the booths she wants to go to and the fastest ways to get there with the least amount of students in her way.

 

Her first stop is the Running in Circles club because Stiles won’t believe it exists without proof.

 

(“Can I get a picture of you guys booth? It’s for my brother.” “Does he like being in a circle?” “He certainly doesn’t like being straight.”)

 

Her next stop is the Quidditch team because honestly? That shit is awesome. Also, who knew it was a contact sport? Answer: Stiles because that boy thinks he’s a wizard and is still convinced Hogwarts lost his acceptance letter. Her brother is going to be so jealous that Barden has a Quidditch team and Mongolia doesn’t.

 

She gets a picture of that booth too, for bragging rights if nothing else.

 

After that she makes her way over to the Barden DJ’s, feeling her excitement grow with each step. This is what she came down to the activities fair for. She wanted to find something that had to do with music and the fact that she actually found a club dedicated to DJing makes suffering through all these people worth it.

 

Being a DJ is what she wants to do with her life. She had gotten interested in it when she was twelve, when Warren got really bad. She (illegally) downloaded the best programs she could and spent hours learning how to match downbeats and rhythms. When they moved to Beacon Hills and Judy became insufferable, it was how Beca escaped – tinkering with different songs on her old beat-up laptop.

 

When Beca got her first paycheck from Frank’s Diner, she blew half of it on a new pair of over-the-ear headphones. She didn’t eat that week but felt no regret. When she showed John her mixes a year after the Stilinskis’ took her in, he was so impressed he took her out the next day to buy whatever equipment she needed to keep on mixing.

 

(“This is better than half the stuff on the radio, Beca and you obviously care a great deal about it. So pick whatever you think you need to keep on doing what you love and I’ll pay for it. You should always follow your dreams. And don’t worry about the money; I’m just helping you out until you can stand up by yourself. If it’s that important to you, you can pay me back later but I’d rather you just think of this as an early Christmas present.”)

 

That day was the first time she ever hugged John. He was so shocked that he forgot to hug back for a full minute. Beca was so happy she didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day. Stiles was so jealous that he pouted for a week.

 

Fully armed with a new mixing table and top-notch software, Beca just kept getting better and better. And she knew it. That’s why she feels like she can make a career out of being a DJ. It is her passion and she will do whatever it takes to be great, starting with getting a degree in Music Theory and Business.

 

Beca knows she has the raw talent. She just needs the education to give her the extra edge, fine-tuning her skills and teaching her the ins and outs of the business side of the entertainment industry. The DJ is a firm believer in self-sufficiency. It won’t do to blindly trust some random agent to have her best interests at heart. No, it is better that Beca know – or at least have a general idea – of what she wants her music career to look like so that it will be harder for someone else to fuck it up for her.

 

There’s a large blonde Australian woman standing in front of the booth when Beca finally walks up. She’s unsuccessfully trying to hit on the two boys behind the table and Beca just wants her to hurry up and move so she can talk to them about ….Deaf Jews?

 

The Australian shifted enough so that Beca can see the sign-up sheet proudly inviting people to join the Barden U Deaf Jew Community. The brunette feels an overwhelming wave of disappointment. Beca was really excited about hanging out with people who do what she does, looking forward to trading tips and pointers. But since that isn’t going to happen….

 

Beca turns without a word and walks away from the DJ booth, leaving the two boys at the Australian’s mercy. She manages to shake off her feeling of being let down and continues towards her next stop, the internship booth. Most college campuses have radio stations and she’s certain that she can land some sort of job at Barden’s.

 

And if eventually she gets high enough in the ranks to play her own songs? Well. Just the thought of having her music play on any radio station is enough to send butterflies stampeding through Beca’s stomach. It makes her determined to make it happen. Because if her stuff is good enough for radio it means Beca is good enough. And being good enough is something Beca wants very, _very_ badly.

 

Sure enough, there’s an opening for an intern at WBUJ ‘Music for the Independent Mind’. Beca is ecstatic. She quickly jots down her information and thanks the kid manning the booth. The DJ then wanders away in a happy haze, trying to exit the activities fair (she’s visited all the booths she wanted to visit) while simultaneously sorting through the new mix ideas that just popped into her head.

 

She’s so deep in thought that she doesn’t even notice where she’s walking until a flyer is thrust into her face and a cheerfully perky voice breaks her concentration.

 

“Hi! Do you want to join our a cappella group?”

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Activities Fair (part 2)

III.

There is a certain little quirk about Beca Mitchell that is the bane of the tiny DJ's existence.

When she's in her "genesis phase" as Stiles likes to call it, you can have a full blown conversation with her and she won't realize until later. The DJ gets so absorbed in planning her beats and mashing up songs that she doesn't really process that someone is speaking to her, instead letting her mouth run on auto-pilot.

The same thing happens when she's studying something intently or in deep concentration. She gets lost in her head and it takes a while for her to find her way back out.

She had to make both John and Stiles promise not to ask her personal questions when she gets like that because her brain-to-mouth filter goes off line and she'll truthfully answer whatever you ask her. She reasoned that it's unfair to pump her for information when she's defenseless to stop it. Both agreed, though Stiles still talks to her about superheroes when she's mixing because it's the only time she'll acknowledge her secret adoration for comics.

(Shut up Stiles, you're still geekier.)

So it doesn't surprise the brunette when nine hours after she got back to her dorm from the activities fair, she suddenly recalls the conversation she doesn't quite remember having with the Bellas co-captains. The DJ groans and slams her head on the table as she remembers what she said to the seniors because really, Mitchell? When in the hell did you become more awkward then Stiles?

She thinks back to the conversation and tries to remember if it  _really_  was as bad as she thinks it was.

She's 99.98% sure it was.

* * *

_"Hi! Do you want to join our a cappella group?"_

_Beca stares blankly at the flyer in her face, still focused on the combination she's working out in her head. Her fingers tap to the tempo, twitching in unison to her thought process. Her eyes absently trace a path from the hand holding the flyer to the tanned arm it belongs to, to an equally tanned shoulder, neck, face – really pretty face and wow, those are some gorgeous sparkling blue eyes right there._

_The DJ's hands still as her attention is momentarily diverted from her mix idea to focus on the perky redhead in front of her, who's_ everything _is almost as beautiful as her cerulean eyes. The brunette looks behind the redhead and briefly locks gazes with emerald orbs that belong to a blonde who's just as stunning as her redheaded companion._

_Beca only has time to fleetingly appreciate their beauty and note that they're wearing matching uniforms before her attention is dragged back to the music inside her mind and her hands start drumming against her thigh once more._

_She watches idly as the redhead's mouth starts moving again and the small part of her brain that isn't obsessing over_ should she use The Proclaimers or Ed Sheeran? _realizes that the senior (and she has to be a senior because her and her friend both look at least 21) is asking her a question, for the second time if Beca's not mistaken._

_Which actually, Beca might be. For all the brunette knows the redhead is yelling at her to move. Except the tone of voice isn't right and the senior seems curious and maybe a little concerned – but not angry. And for some reason, Beca doesn't like the fact that this cheerful girl sounds worried at all. She likes even less that she's the one causing the worry. So through a herculean effort, Beca manages to divert enough brain power to actually decipher what the redhead is saying._

_"Hey, are you alright?"_

Ha! _Beca thinks to herself triumphantly, proud that she figured it out._ Oh, wait she actually wants an answer. Hold up, okay… ummm….

_"Fine." Beca responds and the small part of her brain that's still aware of what's going on around her dryly notes that the DJ's response was about a minute too late to sound normal, so good job on that._

_"Are you sure? You seem a little out of it." the redhead asks still sounding worried, but less so. Beca's mouth answers and her brain elects to give it free reign to function by itself. Her mind is too busy with_ which part of Titanium do I want to blend? Just the chorus or should I slip some of the verses in there too?

_"That's probably because I am." Beca says absently but truthfully. She takes the flyer from the redhead and stares at it until the words make sense. "A cappella, huh?" she remarks a little later. "That's a thing now, right?"_

_"Oh, totes!" the redhead exclaims, still eyeing the brunette with concern but apparently decides that Beca is okay enough that the redhead can talk about her singing group. "We do covers of music but without any instruments. It's all from our mouths."_

_"Yikes." is all the DJ responds with, still absorbed with puzzling out the best transition and misses the redheads explanation of the a cappella groups on campus, only catching that there's four of them and their group is called the Bellas. Beca nods along when the girl stops talking; not processing that she's expected to give a response._

_She misses the way the two seniors exchange a look as the brunette stares past them into space._

_"Dude, that's so lame!" the DJ exclaims suddenly._

_"Aca-scuse me?" the blonde demands, sounding faintly amused and a little insulted. Beca's attention jerks back to the two Bellas as if just realizing they were still there._

_"What?" the brunette says confused. A few spare synapses fire and Beca shakes her head frantically. "Oh no, not you two. Me."_

_"You're so lame?" the blonde asks, definitely amused this time. Beca nods a couple times._

_"Yup. More like my brain then me, though. Except my brain is me so I guess I do mean me instead of my brain but that sounds bad so maybe I don't mean me. Hey, which transition sounds better?" Beca starts humming two different tunes then looks expectantly at the seniors, both of whom look like they're at a loss._

_"Uh, the first one?" The redhead ventures unsurely and Beca just looks thoughtful._

_"You're definitely right, the second makes much more sense in context." She beams at them briefly, happy that two parts of her song now fit together; completely missing the dubious yet somehow fond looks on both girls' faces._

_She suddenly registers the fact that the two girls in front of her are absolutely stunning. And nice! They were so nice to her. Beca's brain (not really with it and still half way submerged in chord progressions and bass beats) decides it has never been more important that she compliments both of them right this instant._

_"You guys are really, really pretty. Did you know that? And it was really sweet of you to help me with my transition; it was giving me some trouble." Beca says earnestly, a dimpled smile emerging on her face._

_The redhead looks flattered but the blonde just stares at her in amused disbelief. "Are you high right now?" The blonde asks seriously and Beca stares at her, startled. The DJ quirks an eyebrow and gives her a look that clearly says_ no, are you?

_"Why would you ask that?" The DJ questions, for the first time fully engaged in the conversation. The seniors seem a taken back by the brunette's sudden focus._

_"Because you've been a space cadet since you started talking to us?" the blonde replies in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. There's a beat of silence before a look of comprehension dawns across the brunette DJ's face and she shrugs sheepishly._

_"Sorry about that. Get lost up here, you know?" Beca taps her temple and gives an awkward grin. The seniors smile understandingly in return._

_"We get it." The redhead reassures the younger girl. "It's hard to tune back in once inspiration lights you up." The blonde nods in agreement. Yet both girls look bewildered once again when the brunette suddenly exclaims "That's such a great idea!"_

_Beca unknowingly ignores their twin looks of confusion at her outburst, mind already intently focused on figuring out what a mash-up between Fall Out Boy's_ Light 'em Up _and Imagine Dragon's_ Radioactive _might sound like. Short answer? Awesome._

_The tiny part of her brain that still understands social cues realizes that she's being rude again and that she probably won't be able to hold another conversation (if you could even call her random and rambling answers that) and so scrambles to find a way to smoothly exit the whatever she's doing with the pair of seniors right now._

_"So right, a cappella. That's singing right?" Beca transitions awfully. Both girls nod, seemingly bemused with the DJ at this point. "Well, I haven't sung since the fire burned my lungs. So, sorry that I can't join your singing group. But thanks anyway for offering. It was really nice to meet you two!" Beca absently smiles at them once more and gives a happy wave before walking purposefully back towards Baker Hall._

_Her exit wasn't exactly smooth as silk (more like rough polyester) but it did its job so Beca doesn't really care. Besides the DJ is still too focused on deciding which intro she wants to use in her mash-up._

_She pauses a step when a brilliant idea hits her._ Why not use both!

 _Beca grins and almost sprints back to her dorm, mind overflowing with ideas and fingers practically screaming to be let loose on her turntables._ This is going to be awesome!

* * *

 _That was so not awesome._  Beca groans and slams her head against the desk a couple more times because she's a spastic idiot and it makes her feel better.

God, Beca should not have tried to talk to those girls. All that happened was she rambled stupidly, embarrassed herself in front of two of the sexiest girls she'd ever met (seriously,  _why_ did Beca feel the need to inform them that they were really, really pretty?), plus divulged really personal information that she'd rather never think about. Ever.

(The fire was arguably the worst thing to ever happen to her in her life and considering the brunette's track record for terrible occurrences, that's saying something)

The only positive things Beca got from that entire encounter are two new finished tracks and three works-in-progress. She makes a mental note to never think about mixes near people, like, ever again. All it leads to is pain and humiliation.

But she thinks she'd like to talk to those girls again. Beca really wasn't there mentally for a majority of their conversation but she knows she likes them. Both of them. There was an odd sort of connection the DJ felt but wasn't aware of until just now when she was thinking about their interaction.

It's fleeting right now, intangible. But the brunette is sure that it's because she wasn't actually paying attention, not really. She's equally sure that if she ever meets them again, that feeling that pulls at the DJ will solidify enough for Beca to identify it.

Beca thinks she'll like that. She really thinks she'll enjoy getting to know those girls better.

With that thought in mind, Beca clicks out of iTunes and shuts down her laptop. She picks up a weathered copy of the Bourne Identity from her desk and is ambling over to her bed when a depressing thought crosses her mind.  _Barden_ is _a big campus. I might not even see them again._

The brunette notices the pang of disappointment at the thought.  _Guess they mean more to me than I thought._   _Huh_. Beca makes the executive decision to think about it later and settles down over her comforters to read, easily tuning out the soft snores of Kimmy Jin sleeping across the room.

Her clock reads 3:42 AM.

* * *

IV.

_Hours ago, back at the activities fair…_

"Do you know what just happened?" Chloe asks watching the retreating back of the small brunette disappear into the crowd.

"Not a clue." Aubrey replies with a smile. The entire encounter with the brunette had been bizarre and Aubrey's still partially convinced the girl had been on something. That's not to say it wasn't enjoyable. The brunette was funny and cute, even if she obviously didn't mean to be.

Though, that last comment she made worries her.  _A fire that burned her lungs?_  For some reason, Aubrey doesn't like the thought that the small brunette was ever in that kind of pain. She feels a sudden protectiveness over this girl and doesn't quite understand why.

She's not someone Aubrey would usually talk with. The girl looked a little more alternative than Aubrey was used to, with all that eyeliner and those ear monstrosities. But she was so sweet and adorable despite how out of it she was acting. And her eyes! God, her eyes were beautiful, almost like staring up at the night sky. Aubrey could practically see the ideas shining through navy irises like stars.

Aubrey thinks about the way the girl was so lost to her own thoughts and finds it adorable, especially since those thoughts were apparently about music. The brunette also has a decent singing voice, if those few hummed bars were anything to go by. Aubrey hopes that the girl's voice isn't as damaged as the brunette seems to think it is. The blonde is sure that it'll be as pretty as she is.

"Do you really think she can't sing?" Chloe asks, apparently having similar thoughts to the blonde. The redhead turns sad puppy eyes on Aubrey and speaks earnestly. "It's just, her voice sounded really good from the little we heard. And she's so adorable, Bree! Do you remember how she complimented us? It was like she  _had_  to make sure we knew how awesome she thought we were." The redhead smiles wistfully. "I just want to get to know her better. I mean, we don't even know her name! If she joined the Bellas, we'd definitely get to hang out or something."

"I know what you mean, Chlo. I really like her to." Aubrey says with a smile of her own. But she soon sighs, running a hand through blonde tresses. "But Chloe, you're pre-med; you know how bad smoke inhalation can be."

Chloe nods sadly because she does. Smoke inhalation wreaks havoc on your lungs. Depending on how bad the burns were, it could be a miracle that the girl is breathing at all. It doesn't change how much Chloe wants to hear the brunette sing and if anything, it makes her want to know even more about the brunette. The girl pulls at Chloe's interest more than anything has in a while.

Aubrey sees the frown on Chloe's face and winces. Making Chloe feel bad is like kicking a puppy. You feel horrible for doing it.

She leans over and gives the redhead a quick hug. "Chin up, Chlo. She's walking and talking so it couldn't have been that bad. Bedsides, Barden isn't all that big. We'll almost certainly be seeing her again."

Chloe returns the hug and gives the blonde a thankful grin, back to her cheerful self. "Yeah, you're right Bree. I'm sure we'll run into her, Bella or no."

The blonde smiles back softly then returns to scanning the crowds, searching for girls who look like they're decent singers and not a complete train wreck visually. Aubrey knows that Chloe advised her that they should just be focusing on the girls voices and she will, but the blonde has plans to get back to the ICCA's – both to uphold tradition and to prove herself after last year's debacle. And the sad truth is that a decent portion of success relies on looks.

It doesn't mean Aubrey is going to dismiss a girl entirely because she didn't have a bikini ready body. It just means that having one is an added bonus.

Chloe watches Aubrey watch the crowd and bites her lip thoughtfully, mind still on the brunette girl from earlier. She meant what she said about wanting to know her. Something about that girl called to Chloe and the redhead is certain that Aubrey felt the same pull. She could hear it in the amusement in the blonde's voice when she talked to the brunette.

Aubrey is always pretty aloof towards strangers and is downright rude to anyone who insults her passion towards a cappella, save her father. The fact that she didn't bite the brunette's head off for calling it lame (even if she didn't mean to) tells Chloe that Aubrey likes _something_  about the smaller girl.

Chloe also noticed the small hitch in Aubrey's breath when the brunette locked gazes with the blonde, noticed the way Aubrey's eyes darkened a shade or two. Not that Chloe could blame her. The alt-girls navy blue orbs were definitely something else.

The redhead wonders if she should feel jealous that the brunette captured the other senior's attention so easily. After all, Aubrey was her girlfriend.

The two of them had been best friends since elementary school when the overly bubbly redheaded daughter of a horse rancher made it her mission to befriend the stiff blonde only child of Georgia's newest House Representative. They had clicked almost instantly and stayed inseparable all throughout their school years, even attending the same University.

The pair didn't start dating until halfway through their freshman year when Chloe had a drunken breakdown, professing her love for her best friend then started crying because she knew Aubrey was straight, she knew the blonde didn't love her like that and she didn't want to destroy their friendship but Chloe just couldn't keep it to herself anymore.

Aubrey simply held her while she cried. The next morning when a then miserably sober Chloe entered the kitchen of their off campus apartment (Aubrey's father was now Senator Posen and refused to let his daughter stay in a dorm), Aubrey handed her two aspirin and a glass of water then kissed her until they both couldn't breathe. When they broke apart, Aubrey coyly told a dumbstruck Chloe that she'd wanted to do that for  _years_.

Even if they've kept their relationship on the down low (neither of them are sure how it would go over with Senator Posen and neither wants to deal with his reaction, especially when they're so happy just being them), the past three and a half years have been the best of both their lives. Chloe knows that what she has with Aubrey is forever. The redhead can't imagine a future where the blonde isn't right there by her side and she knows that Aubrey feels the same way.

But Chloe also knows that there is something about that brunette that draws both of them in. And Chloe can't find it within herself to feel jealous or guilty about that. Even though they talked to the younger girl for maybe ten minutes, Chloe feels an ache when she realizes she might never see the brunette again. Ten minutes and an odd conversation made an unusually strong, very positive impression.

The redhead bites her lip, trying to think of the best way to approach this with Aubrey. She will  _never_  leave the blonde and knows the Aubrey will never leave her. But Chloe can't deny her attraction to the brunette, either. She just hopes that she's right and Aubrey feels the same way too.

"Hey, Bree?" Chloe starts hesitantly. The blonde turns and lifts a questioning eyebrow at the redheads tone. It's not like Chloe to sound nervous.

"What's up, kit?" Aubrey asks, using her pet name for the redhead. A baby fox always seemed to perfectly match Chloe's personality.

The corners of the shorter senior's lips twitch but her nervousness doesn't abate. "You remember that talk we had a couple weeks ago? After we finished watching  _Bridget Jones' Diary_?"

Aubrey did remember. It had been a lighthearted conversation, really. Chloe could never choose between Mark and Daniel for Bridget to end up with in the end. So the last time they watched the movie, Aubrey playfully suggested Bridget just date the both of them. Chloe jumped on the idea eagerly and the pair spent the next hour trying to figure out how a relationship like that would work and if they thought they could ever do something like that.

It had been a joking conversation then but now….

Luckily for Chloe, the blonde understands immediately what the redhead is trying to suggest. Her eyebrows furrow. Truthfully, she's glad Chloe brought it up. Aubrey had been lost at thought about the small brunette as well. The longer she thought about the brunette, the more Aubrey realized what she was feeling was an attraction towards the younger girl. The blonde had been feeling guilty about it because she loved Chloe with everything she had but for some inexplicable reason Aubrey wants so badly to get to know the brunette, to be able to touch her and make her laugh.

And if Chloe feels the same way…

"We'll talk later kit, okay?" Aubrey says. She watches the redheads face fall and frowns. She grabs Chloe's hand and squeezes until the other senior meets her eyes. "But yes." Aubrey watches, faintly amused as the redheads eyes light up in relief, happy that Aubrey isn't taking it the wrong way. "We'll have to talk about it" the blonde continues seriously and is glad to see Chloe's agreeing nod. "We'll have to talk about it and we'll definitely have to get to know her better. But yes. I think I'd like that if you do."

Chloe nods earnestly. "I would, Bree. I love you and I would never replace you but…" Chloe trials off and her eyes unfocus "…there's just something about that girl. I really like her."

Aubrey hums in agreement, mind wandering back to the small brunette and wonders when (definitely a when, not an if) they'll get to see her again.

"I do too, Chlo. I do too."

 


	4. The Infamous Shower Scene

I.

_“So, you’re settling into college life well, then Beca-bee?”_

The DJ rolls her eyes fondly at the nickname. “Yes, you over-protective asshole. I’m settling fine.”

 _“Hey!”_  Stiles whines theatrically through the phone. Beca can practically see the pout on his face.It makes her smile. _“Don’t judge me for caring. You’re my baby hobbit, I like knowing you’re okay!”_

“Judge you, Sty?” The brunette grins, affecting a mock offended tone. “I could never.” She frowns. “And stop calling me hobbit, I’m not  _that_  short.”

 _“Beca.”_ Her brother’s voice grows dead serious. _“You barely come up to Derek’s chest. You’re_ tiny _.”_

“Shut up, asshole!” She laughs, throwing herself back onto her mattress and stares up at her ceiling. She’s glad Kimmy Jin is in class right now or she’d have to deal with a Level Two I’m-so-unimpressed-with-you-right-now glare from her roommate.

She's had the past month to create an alphabetical list of Kimmy's glares and looks of ultimate irritation. There's even a grading scale! DEFCON 1 (I'm-going-to-kill-you-stare) is the worst Kimmy Jin has to offer. Beca was on the receiving end of that gem when she jokingly told Stiles she and the Asian were totally best friends. Apparently, they're not.

Beca can easily ignore a Level One unimpressed glare (it's her roommate's default expression), but Level Two? It’s a little harder. She rolls onto her stomach and keeps talking. “It’s not my fault your boyfriend is a mountain! Der-bear is like 6’2” and 300% muscle as I’m sure you well know.”

 _“Yeah.”_ Stiles voice sounds dreamy and Beca shoots up, frowning suspiciously at her phone. There’s a sigh from the other end and her eyes widen dramatically.

“Dude, gross!” She yells into the receiver, ignoring the sound of her brothers startled flailing on the other end. “Stiles! Don’t think about sex with your boyfriend when you’re on the phone with me! I don’t need those images!”

 _“You’re the one who brought him up.”_ He sounds completely unapologetic and Beca wants to hit him.

“No, I didn’t!” she exclaims. “You did.”

 _“Oh.”_  The DJ can almost  _see_  Stiles shrugging. _“He’s just always on my mind, you know? What’s a guy to do?”_

“You two are grossly affectionate.” Beca informs him seriously. “Worse than Scott and Allison, and I wasn’t sure that was even  _possible_.”

 _“Aww, Beca-bee!”_  Stiles coos and she rolls her eyes. It wasn’t supposed to be a compliment but of course her brother took it that way. _“I can’t wait to tell them you said that! I’ve been telling them for months that we were worse. They just won’t believe me!”_

Of course they have a competition on that. Beca shakes her head at the entirety of the population of Mongolia University. The only sane one there is Isaac and he’d win a being disgustingly adorable competition hands down. The boy is a puppy. He’s also Beca’s favorite, sometimes even before Stiles. But almost never before Der. Der-bear likes to pretend he’s the big bad wolf but Beca has his number. Derek Hale is such a softie at heart.

 The DJ shakes her head one more time at her brother’s antics before singsong-ing “Good _bye_ , Stiles.”

 _“Wait!”_  He exclaims to and there’s a loud thump. Beca snorts because she can easily recognize the sound of Stiles falling out of his desk chair. It’s certainly happened enough times. _“So are you really having a good time? ‘Cause if you’re having problems, I’m fine with coming down and knocking a few skulls. Or having Derek knock skulls because he’s bigger and has the whole ‘Eyebrows of Doom’ going for him, so it’s more frightening.”_

She huffs a laugh because Der’s majestic eyebrows are a work of art. A small smile crosses her face at the thought. “I’m fine, Stiles. I’d call you if I weren’t.”

There’s a sad sigh from across the line.  _“You’d call me when it’s so bad you couldn’t handle it anymore.”_ Beca stays silent because they both know it’s true.

She doesn’t like bothering her brother with her problems, despite the fact that only him and John can help. It’s her first instinct to call one of them when she’s feeling overwhelmed, to be soothed by the sound of unconditional love and safe. But she rarely actually picks up the phone and dials.

Sometimes she’ll break down and call Stiles but almost never John. It feels like admitting weakness to strongest man she knows and Beca… she can’t. Not to John. Barely even to Stiles.Intellectually, Beca knows they won’t kick her to the curb for breaking down. She knows in her head that they never will.

But some traitorously small part of her heart is still convinced that the Stilinski’s don’t really want her and letting them know just how fucked up she still is will only make them want to abandon her faster. Its bullshit, she knows but she can’t help the way she feels.

 _“I just….I worry about you, Beca.”_ Beca can hear the sadness in his voice and it makes her want to punch something. Mostly herself.  _“I don’t like not being there to help.”_

“I know, Sty.” She reassures softly. There’s a comfortable silence then that Beca is loathe to break but she needs Stiles to know how much he means to her, wants him to know how much she appreciates him. “Thank you.” A fortifying breath. “For caring. I…it means…I just… thanks.”

She stumbles over the last few words, unable to make herself say what she’s really thankful for. Unable to make herself say  _Thank you for taking me in. For never leaving. Thank you for being you and for being my brother. Thank you for deciding I was worth it. Thank you._ But Beca can’t make herself say those words so she just clears her throat awkwardly and waits.

 _“What are big brothers for, Beca-bee?”_ Stiles’s voice is soft and understanding and so unbelievably fond. She knows he knows exactly what she was trying to say. It makes her throat close and grateful tears well up in her eyes. She laughs watery.

“I love you, asshole.” She knows he can hear the sincerity in her voice.

_“Love you more, fucker. Talk to you next Wednesday?”_

Beca grins, feeling light and airy like she always does after talking with Stiles. After being reminded that she’s loved. “Always. Bye, Sty.”                                                      

_“Bye, Beca.”_

Beca hangs up the phone two hours after it obnoxiously blared Shoot to Thrill, scaring her half to death and informing her that her dear brother was calling for their weekly check in. It’s been a staple of both their lives since Stiles first went to University as a way for Beca to make sure Stiles wasn’t leaving her and Stiles to make sure Beca didn’t self-implode while he was gone.

Two hours was about average for their talks. They spend the time catching up and gossiping about Stiles’s friends and the Hale family. Between the two groups, it’s a soap opera waiting to happen. Beca is almost certain that Stiles has scripts hidden around somewhere turning their lives into just that. Except she thinks he made it into a supernatural drama/romance, if all the questions about werewolves he’s been asking recently are any indication.

(Why he feels the need to ask Beca about werewolves is beyond her. HE’S the one with minor in Folklore and Mythology)

The DJ is just happy that John pays her cellphone bill. The number of minutes they rack up is probably ridiculous. Though she’s positive he only pays because when the Sheriff calls every other Sunday, he talks to her for twice as long. Not that Beca is complaining. She likes the sound of John’s voice. It’s comforting.

Beca sits there for a little bit thinking about her conversation with her brother. She wasn't lying when she told him she was doing fine. In fact, she was doing great. She likes being in Barden and going to classes. It keeps her busy. She even enjoys her teachers and what they're teaching. So far, her first year at university is shaping up to be fantastic.

The brunette smiles to herself then tosses her phone up near her pillows and stretches, relaxing into the motion and rolls her neck until it cracks. Sitting in the same position for so long didn’t exactly do wonders for her muscles. She glances around the room, realizing that its still only her in it. Checking her clock, she sees it’s about nine at night. Kimmy Jin must’ve gone to dinner or something because there’s no way that her class is still going on.

Beca had already eaten before Stiles called and was actually getting ready for a run when her cell started screaming AC/DC. The brunette had been feeling a little cagey sitting in her room and figured some exercise would make her feel better. She is still dressed in her running shorts and tank top and it’s not too dark out right now. Beca thinks she can jog for a while. And if some idiot tries to jump her? Well. John made sure both his kids knew how to defend themselves. Beca can handle it.

That in mind, the brunette grabs her iPhone from her bed, plugs in her headphones (the white ones that Apple makes, not her expensive Beats by Dre) and pulls up her workout playlist. The sassy sound of Iggy Azalea filters through the ear buds and Beca smiles, quietly rapping along as she tightens her laces and stretches.

“So get my money on time, if they not money decline. I just can’t worry ‘bout no haters gotta stay on my grind.” The brunette sasses as she exits her dorm, silly grin on her face as she dances her way out the doors of Baker Hall. The moment her feet hit pavement she’s off at a sprint, relishing the way her muscles pull and stretch.

As she rounds a corner, Beca decides she and Iggy are going to be making a habit out of this. They both gotta stay fancy after all.

* * *

 

II.

Beca feels disgusting.

Running three miles and back in Georgia heat does that to a girl but still. She feels gross and sweaty and just really, really wants a shower. It’s an added bonus that it’s now past eleven so the bathroom should be deserted. Beca doesn’t like showering near people. It makes her uncomfortable.

Quietly opening the door to 628 and poking her head in, Beca learns that Kimmy Jin is back from murdering her latest victim and is sleeping soundly. The brunette silently enters their shared room and quickly strips, pulling on her bathrobe and grabbing her shower caddy before slipping back out into the hall.

She walks through the maze of hallways until she finds the communal bathroom for her floor. The brunette is gratified to see that she was right and the place is empty. She ambles over to one of the stalls and gets in, turning on the water and absently humming the last song to play on her workout playlist.

The sound of the music makes Beca think of the two seniors she met at the activities fair last month. She’s sad that she still hasn’t seen them again. Beca knows it is a big campus but a big part of her has been hoping for that twist of fate that will throw her into their company once more. The brunette still can’t believe she was so out of it she didn’t ask for their names.

She could’ve had Danny hack the school and pull their schedules or something.

Which sounds really stalker-ish now that she thinks about it. Too stalker-ish for Danny. _But not Stiles._ Beca thinks wryly. _He would totally help me hack the school so I could meet up with an incredibly sexy redhead and a stunning blonde._ She smirks. Her brother has no boundaries, something she both hates and adores about him.

 _Or you could do it the easy way._ her inner voice suddenly chimes. Beca lofts an eyebrow. _Oh? And what’s the easy way?_

_Just try out for their singing group. You have the voice for it and it guarantees you some face time._

_No._ Beca immediately thinks. Memories of the fire flicker through her mind and she feels a phantom pain in her lungs.

 _Yes_. Her conscious is unrelenting. Fucker.

_NO!_

_Oh my god dude, stop arguing with yourself and just do it. You’ve been obsessing over those two for weeks and the doctors cleared you months ago. You’re fine._

Beca growls in frustration. Stupid logical self with your stupid logical arguments.

Trying out for the Bellas _would_ guarantee her at least one more interaction with the beautiful seniors. If she went she could definitely get their names and maybe even their phone numbers or something. But just to hang out! As friends. Because you just want to be friends. With both of them. Right.

But trying out for the Bellas also means singing and that’s just not something Beca has tried to do since before she got hospitalized. Sure she’s hummed a bit and she was rapping earlier. But rapping isn’t singing, it’s talking in a different tone of voice.

The DJ sighs. The truth is she’s missed singing. Doing anything with her voice hurt like a bitch for such a long time after she was released. But she’s been talking for a while now and there hasn’t been any pain. By this point, singing shouldn’t be a problem either.

Making up her mind, Beca decides to try singing in here. Shower acoustics are legendary so if she wants to know how she sounds, this is a pretty good place for it. Besides, the bathroom is empty so no one will know if her voice sucks or something.  

And if it’s that bad or it hurts she can just stop and get Stiles to hack some records. She can bribe him with the newest Batman comic if she needs to.

And if her voice feels and sounds fine then Beca can decide if she wants to go the try-outs. She’ll have to look it up but she’s sure there’s a time and a date on a website somewhere….

 _Slow your roll, Beca._ the brunette thinks. _You still have to see if you have a voice to audition with._

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. She can do this. The notes of the song she was just humming roll around her head. She takes another deep breath and lets go.

“You shout it out but I don’t hear a word you say…” A grin comes across Beca’s face. She’s just as good as she remembered. “I’m talking loud, not saying much.”

Her voice floats around the bathroom and echoes back, making it sound like there’s three of her singing instead of just one. Her voice builds as her confidence grows and she couldn’t wipe the smile from her face if she tried. It just feels so _good_ to be singing again. She wishes she had done it earlier.

“I’m criticized, but all your bullets ricochet. Shoot me down, but I get up.”

She stops moving and lets her eyes flutter shut. She wants to enjoy this, to remember the way it feels.

“I’m bulletproof, nothing to lose. Fire away, fire away. Ricochet, you take your aim. Fire away, fire away.”

She pauses briefly then puts all the emotion she can into the chorus.

“You shoot me down, but I won’t fall. I am titanium. Shoot me down but I won’t fall. I am titanium.”

Beca stops and lets the last few notes hover around her. She’s remembering why this song is her absolute favorite. _Anthem of my life_ the DJ chuckles. She shakes her head then takes a few more deep breaths. She doesn’t want to stop singing, not ever again. But before she can open her mouth and start back up, the curtain to her stall is ripped open and a strangely familiar voice screeches

“You can sing!”

Everything gets a little blurry after that.


	5. The Actual Infamy

III.

Almost everyone in Beacon Hills knows Stiles has panic attacks. It's a small town and word travels. It doesn't help that when he was younger and the death of his mother was still fresh, he used to have attacks everywhere – school, the library, the supermarket. Anything that reminded him too much of his mother sent him struggling for breath.

A lesser known fact in Beacon Hills is that Beca gets panic attacks too. It surprises her sometimes, how few people know. Beca had often been the center of most gossips in the years since she was taken in by the Sheriff. Yet at the same time, it doesn't surprise her at all. She rarely had an attack outside of the Stilinski household or Stiles's jeep. She'd refuse to succumb to her panic until she was somewhere where no one else could see her.

It often meant that her attacks, while less frequent than Stiles's were much more severe.

There are a few things that set her off. Small spaces, waking up in the dark and not immediately knowing where she is, cars, people touching her – especially when she's deep in thought, her nightmares, people yelling too loudly at her and lastly, people surprising her when she thinks she's alone.

A very energetic, very familiar – and  _very_  naked – redhead definitely falls under that last category.

* * *

 

Beca screams.

The redhead obviously wasn't expecting it, if the violent way she flinches back is any indication. But Beca wasn't expecting someone to NAKEDLY interrupt a very personal and private moment so the brunette does not give a single FUCK about what the older girl was or was not expecting.

What Beca does do is scream. Loudly. Loud enough to cause an equally naked and equally familiar blonde to come running into her stall as well. It does absolutely nothing for Beca's state of mind.

The brunette throws herself backward until her back hits the cold wall of the shower and slides down until she's in a huddle on the floor. One of them rushes forward and touches her shoulder and Beca jerks back like she'd been branded, shrieking "DON'T TOUCH ME!"

Both girls recoil but the brunette doesn't calm. She distantly hears one of the seniors from the activities fair say something but Beca isn't sure what. She's too busy trying to count her breaths, in and out, until her heartbeat settles and the panic goes away.

It's not working.

It's not working and Beca can feel her panic rising up and swallowing her whole like the fucking darkness did in that fucking closet and she  _really_  shouldn't have brought that up because now everything really is going black and the DJ  _hates_  the black, hates the way it feels, the way it tastes and she just wants everything to  _stop_.

But it's not. It's just getting worse. Her breaths are coming faster and faster and more and more uneven and irregular and what sounds like alarm is rising higher and higher and more and more frantic in the senior's voices.

Beca can't tell what's going on around her anymore. She feels rather than sees two shapes crouching in front of her, trying to talk to her but Beca just can't make out words or faces or  _anything_. She just knows they're there like she knows the sky is blue. It's a certainty, a tangible and it's exactly what she needs.

Her hand shoots out and grabs a wrist of one of the girls in front of her. The DJ only knows it's a wrist because she can feel the steady thrum of their heartbeat under her fingers. Beca grabs it and she squeezes, probably uncomfortably tight but it's something to anchor her, something to focus on instead of the panic drowning her alive. So she grabs and squeezes and feels the strong pulse beat.

It's fast, frenzied and Beca realizes that these girls probably aren't accustomed to handling a panic attack. They're probably freaking the fuck out. A part of Beca wants to reassure them that it's fine, that it'll pass in a little while, and that she'll be okay. But the larger part, the one still fucking panicking doesn't believe any of that shit so no one's reassuring anyone right now.

Beca doesn't think her vocal cords are functioning anyway.

But apparently her ears do because she hears one of them (the blonde? It's whose ever wrist she's holding) tells the other to go get something.  _An…ow? What the fuck is an ow?_

A few moments later there's a familiar softness around her shoulders.  _Towel._ Beca thinks in an 'oh' tone of voice.  _She told her to get a towel. Well, that's nice. At least we're all not flashing each other._

It never ceases to amaze the brunette that even when 99% of her is losing her shit, the remaining 1% manages to stay sarcastic. That's talent right there.

The towel helps. It's such a small thing but the towel makes her feel less vulnerable, more in control. Enough to slightly unfreeze her vocal cords because Beca realizes that this is actually one of her worse panic attacks and if she doesn't start to calm down, she will probably end up passing out. And passing out means being taken to a hospital and no….just…just  _no_.

Did she mention earlier that hospitals giver her panic? No? Well they do. Really badly. It's actually her worst trigger. They also give her nightmares which lead to more panic and Beca is not dealing with any of that shit. Not tonight. So she needs to calm down and she knows she can't do it on her own. She's going to need both the seniors to help her.

The blonde's heartbeat is helping, so is the towel but she needs the redhead to count for her. Beca needs her to coach her breathing until it settles in a somewhat normal rhythm. She needs the redhead to be Stiles because Stiles is in Mongolia and her phone is in her room so Stiles isn't coming and she can't call him so she's on her own.

Beca should really start thinking less negative thoughts because they aren't making anything any better.

"C…c…ou…nt." Her voice is quiet and strangled and neither senior hears her. The brunette tries to try again but her vocal cords aren't cooperating and god-fucking-damn it. Her lungs are fighting to expand against the steel bands that  _have_  to be wrapped around them but it's not working and she can't get enough  _air_. The panic is swelling up again and Beca knows that soon she's going to freeze up so it's now or never.

The seniors above her are still talking, have been for the three minutes (has it only been three minutes?) since her attack started. The DJ needs their attention. So she grabs the blonde's wrist harder and squeezes tight until the blonde stops talking and looks at her.

"Count." Beca gasps again, firmer. She knows they heard her because now they're looking at her in confusion instead of helplessness. It's not much better but it's a start. "Breath." Beca manages, trying to focus on the older girls' eyes but only able to make out towel-clothed blurs and blobs of red and yellow hair.

"Co…unt…..cou….n…t…br….br….b….rea…the"

The redhead seems to get it which is good because her breathing is getting more erratic and Beca can't keep her eyes open anymore, can't stay in the bathroom and is being dragged kicking and screaming into the black depths of her panic. She fights the pull and searches for her anchors to the real world.

badadum.badadum.badadum.

She focuses on the too fast tempo of the heartbeat in the wrist she still has a death grip on and strains her ears for the sound of the redhead's melodic voice. It takes a while but eventually she hears

"…four… out, two, three, four. You're doing so well, just keep it up okay? In, two, three, four…out, two, three, four…that's it, two, three, four….out, two, three, four…"

Beca disregards everything else and throws all of her willpower into doing exactly what the voice says. To breathe in, two, three, four…out, two, three, four. It takes a while. Her breath is choppy and uneven when she tries to match the instructions. She'll manage the count for the inhale then fuck it up on the exhale or vise-versa.

But eventually her breaths begin to even out and the panic slowly starts to abate. Her eyes flutter open and lock with bright blue ones and the DJ keeps focusing on the "…In, two, three, four… You're doing so much better, keep with me…out, two, three, four…."

Beca isn't sure how long they all sit on the uncomfortably hard floor of the bathroom. It's long enough that the water they're sitting in starts to chill and the blonde's heartbeat settles back to a slower, more regular rhythm.

_…ba-da-dum… ba-da-dum… ba-da-dum…_

Sometime later, after Beca's breathing evens out completely and her eyes – heavy with exhaustion – slip shut, the redhead stops talking and moves to get up.

Beca flips a shit.

She flips because right now she cannot handle either of these girls leaving. They need to sit there, right in front of her until Beca feels okay enough that they can go. And Beca is not that okay, not even a little bit. So when the redhead goes to move, the brunette's eyes fly open and her body jackknifes forward, left hand reflexively tightening on the blonde's wrist, right latching onto the redheads arm.

A guttural noise of protest tumbles from her lips.

The redhead looks shocked for a moment, staring at the hand with a vice grip on her limb. Her eyes snap to the DJ's, utterly confused before comprehension suddenly dawns.

"I'm not leaving." She soothes but Beca doesn't relax because it's just words and the senior is still moving and  _stop fucking moving damn it!_

Her fear must be reflecting in her eyes because the redheaded senior stills before gently reaching over and prying Beca's right hand from her arm. She doesn't give the DJ time to protest before she's lacing her hand through Beca's fingers and shifting so she sitting on the brunette's right side.

"There." The redhead says, patting their entwined hands with her free one. "See? Just moving around a bit. We won't go anywhere until you tell us to." Beca looks at the blonde who nods in agreement with a reassuring smile on her face so Beca forces herself to calm back down. She glances down at the hand holding her right, thankful that its owner seems to understand what she needs right now. Then she glances at her left and immediately drops the blonde's wrist like a hot iron.

"Sorry." The brunette rasps, guilt pouring from her in waves. Around the blonde Bellas wrist is a nasty circle of painful looking bruises in a hand shaped pattern. Beca didn't realize she'd been grabbing the older girl's arm that hard. She feels immediately awful. The DJ didn't even ask to use the blonde's heartbeat as her own personal metronome.

"It's fine." The blonde says. She had immediately looked over when the brunette dropped her wrist, thinking something was wrong. Despite the fact that the girl didn't want to be touched, it seemed like she needed something anchor her to the real world. The blonde was more than happy to offer her services.

The older girl sees where Beca is staring and is trying to relieve the younger girl of her guilt. "You needed it and it was our fault you freaked out anyway."

Beca turns her head to the left to stare, unknowingly arching a brow.

"You're fine." The blonde says again and a faint smirk crosses her lips. "If I was upset with you, trust me you'd know."

Beca stares at her a little while longer before nodding slowly. She still feels guilty about the bruises but less so now. The blonde does look the type to not keep her displeasure unknown.

"Ice. Later. Help swelling." Beca probably sounds like a Neanderthal right now with her one word sentences but she's tired and doesn't want to put the effort into actually sounding like she's from the twenty first century instead of paleolithic times. The blonde is kind enough not to comment, just nodding and quietly thanking her for the advice.

Beca makes some sort of affirmative sound in response and smiles when the blonde twines their fingers together too. Her eyes fall shut again and she lets her mind drift.

The brunette knows that she should probably get up and tell the two Bellas that they can leave. The floor their sitting on is cold and wet and a towel isn't exactly proper sitting around clothes nor is a shower stall a popular hangout. But Beca feels so comfortable sandwiched between these two girls.

It's an odd feeling. Normally when she's this close to other people who aren't Stiles or John, she freaks and punches them before running away. Violence probably isn't a good first reaction to people touching her but honestly? If they can't tell from her fuck off glare to fuck off then they're just asking to be hit.

Sitting with these girls is different. It feels safe in the same sort of way she associates with the Stilinski men but at the same time not. It's softer yet heavier as if it's made of something completely different than the familial care of Stiles and John.

Beca likes it so much she doesn't want to move. And neither of the Bellas seemed inclined to go anywhere so Beca doesn't feel guilty keeping them there on the cold, hard floor with her.

Suddenly (or maybe not, time doesn't make a lot of sense to Beca after a panic attack) the redhead is humming. Its sounds like an angel and all the DJ want is to hear what she sounds like when she sings. She wonders if the blonde sounds just as good and figures she must if she's a co-captain of an a cappella group.

It takes the younger girl a while to figure out what song is being hummed but when she does she's snorting incredulously.

"Really?" She asks. "Titanium?"

The redhead looks completely unapologetic. "It was stuck in my head." She shrugs. "Besides, that song is my jam." A beat of silence. "My lady jam."

Beca dies. She's laughing so hard that tears are coming out of her eyes. The redhead looks bemused but the blonde has her head buried in her free hand, cherry red in embarrassment.

The DJ gets enough control over herself to gasp "You interrupted shower sex with your smokin' hot girlfriend to burst naked into  _my_  shower because I was singing your lady jam?" Beca looks at their faces and starts cracking up again, head shoved back against the shower wall as she laughs.

The redhead looks surprised and a little smug.

The blonde looks dumbfounded and impossibly even redder in embarrassment.

"Yes." " _Shower sex!?"_

The two speak at the same time, one voice still completely unapologetic and the other high and shrill.

Beca manages to calm down so she can answer. She's surprised to find that neither girl has yet to let go of her hands. She's even more surprised that she doesn't yet want them to.

"That hickey on your neck isn't exactly subtle, Blondie." Beca smirks and resists the urge to start laughing again when the blonde Bellas free hand flies up to cover the angry looking red mark starting to purple on her flesh. She manages to resist even though the wide-eyed fish stare the older girl has is absolutely hilarious.

She loses it when she glances over at the redhead and the other girl looks so  _pleased_  with herself that Beca can't handle it. She's already back in hysterics. It takes a few minutes but eventually her chuckles die down and Beca leans back with a happy sigh.

"God, I needed that."

"Happy to help." Blondie grumbles still flushed red. Beca knocks her shoulder against the blondes and out the corner of her eye sees an unwilling smile on the older girls face. The redhead is watching both of them happily and with something else that Beca can't seem to place.

"So will you sing for us?" the redhead asks abruptly.

"Excuse me?" Beca asks bewildered.

"Titanium. Can you sing it for us, please?" the redhead is flashing Beca some grade-A puppy dog eyes but seriously?

"Dude, NO!"

"Please? Your voice is really, really pretty and I just want to hear it again."

Beca's eyebrows are somewhere in her hairline. "So you want me to sing your lady jam, minutes after your aborted shower sex while we're all basically naked? I'll say again: NO!"

The redhead waves off her protests. "It's still my favorite song and you  _were_  singing it earlier. Besides it's not like its anything we haven't seen before."

"Oh my god." Beca says, turning redder than the blonde had been.

"And we are wearing towels so it's not like we're actually naked."

Beca's head whips over to stare at the blonde. She's looking at her expectantly and a little pleadingly and the DJ is nonplussed.

"You were mortified all of twenty seconds ago." The brunette points out dumbfounded. "What the hell happened?"

Blondie shrugs. "I really want to hear you sing. Chloe was right, your voice is fantastic."

"Chloe?" Beca asks looking at the redhead, who nods in confirmation. "And I'm Aubrey." Blondie says, squeezing the brunette's left hand a little.

"Beca." The DJ says and both seniors beam at her.

"So, you're going to sing right?" Chloe asks again, apparently not one to be deterred.

Beca sighs resignedly. Why she's letting these girls convince her is beyond the DJ's scope of understanding. "You're really going to make me do this?"

Both girls nod eagerly, faces lit up in anticipation.  _Oh, that's why._  Beca thinks.  _Because they're gorgeous and apparently you can't say no to pretty girls. Or at least these pretty girls._

Chloe must be getting impatient because she says "You might as well give up because we can do this  _all night long._ " Beca chokes on her breath and stares at the redhead because was Beca imagining it or was that a sultry tone in the Bellas voice? Chloe is looking back innocently but there's a sparkle in her eye that makes the DJ suspicious.

Aubrey snickers quietly and squeezes Beca's hand again, silently encouraging her to go ahead. The DJ sighs and resigns herself to her fate.

"I'm bulletproof nothing to lose…" Beca starts, already comfortable with the way her voice is filling the space. She doesn't see the dreamy smiles on the Bellas faces as she continues so sing softly "Fire away, fire away. Ricochet you take your aim –"

"Fire away, fire away." The DJ's eyes snap open (when had she closed them?) and she stares at Chloe who is smiling contentedly as she blends her voice with Beca's. It's the best thing the brunette has ever heard in her life and she doesn't want it to stop. So she doesn't.

"You shoot me down but I don't fall –"

"I am titanium." A third voice joins their duet and if Beca thought her and Chloe were good, with Aubrey singing too it's just magic. It's ethereal and unreal and Beca is smiling so hard it's almost starting to effect the way her voice sounds. But it doesn't and Beca loses herself in the way her alto mixes with their high sopranos.

"You shoot me down but I don't fall. I am titanium."

The two Bellas voices trail off but Beca doesn't want to stop yet, doesn't want to break this moment they're all in. So she keeps singing.

"Cut me down, but it's you who have further to fall. Ghost to own and haunted love." Beca is singing by herself but she knows instinctively that the older girls are just waiting, enjoying the sound of her voice until it's their turn to sing again.

"Raise your voice. Sticks and stones may break my bones. I'm talking loud, not saying much."

There's a beat then Chloe and Aubrey join in and it's perfect.

"I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose. Fire away, fire away. Ricochet, you take your aim. Fire away, fire away."

"You shoot me down but I won't fall. I am titanium. You shoot me down but I won't fall. I am titanium."

Beca lets the song end this time, allows the final notes to fade out into the air. There's a beaming and satisfied grin lighting up her face and she knows without looking that there's matching expressions on the Bellas face's.

The three of them sit there in silence for a little while, stunned by the absolute magic of what they just did.

It's broken by a familiar perky voice.

"You have to audition of the Bellas!"

Beca shakes her head and laughs at the eager tone in Chloe's voice. She hears an echoing chuckle to her left and knows that Aubrey feels the same.

"Just consider it!" Chloe pleads, taking her laughter as rejection. "It's tomorrow and your voice is fantastic and – "

"Yeah, yeah, alright Ginger Spice." Beca interrupts, waving their conjoined hands in a dismissive manner. "I guess I can tryout."

Chloe gives a little squeal and claps her hand excitedly before freezing and looking unimpressed at Beca.

"Ginger Spice?" She asks playfully glaring. The brunette shrugs unapologetic.

"I'm very creative." Beca deadpans to the amusement of Aubrey.

"And on that note." The blonde snickers and looks over at the younger girl. "You good?"

Beca smiles softly, oddly appreciative of the concern and nods. "Yeah, I'm good."

She stands up and pulls both the Bellas up with her, reluctantly dropping their hands after. They all stand there in a loose circle smiling at each other until Beca fiddles awkwardly with the corner of her towel.

It's just hitting her that she's standing half naked in a bathroom with two of the goddamn prettiest girls she's ever  _seen_  who are in a very similar state of undress. Knowing that the two of them are in a relationship is doing very little for her libido. She kind of just really, really wants to throw the  _both_  of them down and kiss and lick and  _bite_  every available inch of wet, tanned skin.

Beca clears her throat awkwardly and flushes red. "Uhh, I still need to shower guys so…." She trails off refusing to look anywhere near either of the seniors and their long, long legs that Beca wants to wrap around her waist–

"Oh!" Chloe says, like she's suddenly realizing that, yes she did interrupt Beca's shower because this was  _not_  some casual meet-up at the local coffee shop. But the redhead still doesn't move and –  _is she checking Beca out?!_

The redhead's eyes are definitely wandering, Beca is sure of it. She glances over at Aubrey to see if the blonde noticed and her jaw drops when she sees Aubrey's eyes snap  _up_  to meet hers, a faint blush dusting her cheeks.

But then Chloe is grabbing Aubrey's arm and pulling her out of the stall, so Beca doesn't have time to call them on it. She  _does_  have time to cast an appreciative glance of her own at their retreating forms. Towels, while maybe not flattering are sure as hell sexy.

"See you at auditions!" Chloe shouts over her shoulder as she disappears. Beca shakes her head and turns back on her shower. She hears the sound of the two seniors getting dressed and are starting to leave when an idea pops in her head. She smirks.

"Hey Blondie, Ginger Spice!" She yells and hears them stop walking.

"Yes?" Aubrey calls back. The DJ's smirk grows.

"For your next sexscapade, do me a favor and stay out of the freshman dorm, yeah? You're seniors. It's unbefitting of your higher stature."

There's the sound of someone stumbling and burst high, clear laughter. Beca thinks it's her new favorite sound.

"Will do, Beca!" Chloe hollers, laughter in her voice. She hears Aubrey shush the redhead. The words are muffled but the mortification is clear as day. The blonde must not be as utterly shameless as her girlfriend. It seems funny to Beca because of what she remembers of the activities fair, Aubrey was a pillar of confidence. They both were, really.

Beca shrugs. She doesn't blame Aubrey for her embarrassment. Not everyone is as exhibitionist as the redhead clearly is. She hears some more giggles and a few more hissed whispers before the door to the bathrooms bang shut and Beca is alone. Hopefully for real this time.

One thought does cross her mind.

 _Looks like I was right. I am going to the Bellas auditions tomorrow._  She doesn't even try to deny how excited she feels about it.

Beca laughs tiredly (still exhausted from her attack) and starts softly singing into the spray, rubbing shampoo into her hair.

"I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose…"

* * *

 

IV.

"Oh my god, Chloe! I can't believe you did that!" Aubrey hisses as they exit Baker Hall and start walking towards their apartment about ten minutes away. The redhead just laughs and teases "You're the one who was too impatient to go home."

"I didn't see you complaining and that is  _not_  what I meant." Aubrey snaps, pinking. "I can't believe you burst into that poor girls shower! You literally gave her a panic attack!"

Chloe had the decency to look guilty. "I didn't mean to!" She defends weakly. "Her voice was just…" The redhead's eyes unfocus "…it was amazing, Bree. Don't try and tell me any different."

"I'm not." The blonde says. "But there were a lot of ways you could've handled the situation and running into her shower naked wasn't one of them."

Chloe looks at the ground. It wasn't the invasion of privacy that Chloe felt bad about. The redhead didn't have many boundaries. When she heard the angelic voice floating through the bathroom, she didn't think twice about running from the stall she was sharing with Aubrey to the one three curtains down and invading.

What she was feeling guilty for was the reaction the girl had. How was Chloe supposed to know the girl would be thrown into a panic attack? She didn't mean to freak Beca out; she just wanted to know who was singing so beautifully.

Chloe brightens up and sends a glance over at Aubrey. "But I did find our girl, didn't I? And I was right!" The redhead crows. "She can sing!"

"And of all the places we could've found her." Aubrey says, shaking her head incredulously. She's still not pleased with the way Chloe acted. But Aubrey knows her girlfriend and knows she didn't mean anything bad to happen. The ginger was just curious and has a tendency to act before she thinks. Her impulsiveness is a great counter to Aubrey's own caution despite how much trouble it gets them both into.

At the same time, she has to hand it to her girlfriend. She  _did_  find the beautiful alt-girl they'd been searching for since the activities fair. "Beca." Aubrey says, tasting the way the name sounds on her tongue. "It suits her."

"It does." Chloe agrees with a smile. She reaches over and grabs Aubrey's hand, twining their fingers and giving a squeeze. "I still want to get to know her. She's funny and her voice really is phenomenal."

"And I agree on all three counts, kit. Lucky for us, some redheaded chick got her to audition for the Bellas." The blonde teases and Chloe giggles, lifting Aubrey's arm and spinning herself.

"Think she'll really come, Bree?" The redhead asks draping Aubrey's arm over her shoulders.

"She'd damn well better." Aubrey huffs and pulls her girlfriend closer. "Or else we'll end up stalking the Baker Hall's 6th floor shower until we meet her again."

"Always with a plan." Chloe laughs but knows that if the brunette doesn't show they'll probably end up doing just that. "Speaking of plans." She says changing the subject. "When we get back I think I'm going to go through my med textbooks for information on panic attacks. We haven't really talked about them in class. It's more of a psychological problem than a physical one, so they haven't really come up."

"I think I'm going to abuse Google myself and try to find the best ways to handle them." Aubrey confesses. "That was probably thirty of the scariest minutes of my life. I didn't know how to help."

Chloe nods in agreement. The brunette girl looked so tiny and so scared huddled in the corner of her stall, trembling and gasping for breath. Her eyes were wide and wild and Chloe was sure she wasn't actually seeing anything. It was terrifying for the Bellas to watch and the redhead aches to think of how awful it must have been for Beca.

The senior bites her lip when a thought crosses her mind. "Do you think the fire she was in had anything to do with her attack?" Chloe asks hesitantly, knowing that past traumatic experiences can sometimes cause panic attacks.

"I don't know, Chlo." Aubrey responds truthfully. "And I don't think we know her well enough to ask."

Chloe nods her head in understanding. They definitely don't. "I just want to help her." Chloe says quietly and the blonde stops walking to draw the other senior into a hug.

"We will." Aubrey promises, chin resting on Chloe's shoulder. The blonde remembers the glimpse of angry red burn scars decorating the brunette's back and her resolve hardens. "We'll definitely help her."

Chloe relaxes into her girlfriends embrace and breathes in the comforting smell of citrus. No matter what they're going to befriend that little alt-girl. That's their goal. Anything else can wait.

The Bellas auditions are tomorrow and Chloe hopes Beca is there. She has zero qualms about stalking a freshman bathroom but it's a tedious process (she speaks from past experience – don't ask) and it would be so much easier to talk to the girl at tryouts.

 _Beca_  Chloe thinks as she pulls away from her girlfriend and they continue their trek to their apartment. An image of a sexy towel clad brunette pointedly looking anywhere but at the two girls in front of her, ears tinted pink with embarrassment floats around her mind. A grin erupts on the redheads face.

She can't wait for tomorrow.


	6. Tomorrow

It's a little after nine in the morning on a Saturday and Beca is already completely done with the day. It's ridiculous really. She woke up this morning ecstatic because today was the day she was going to join the Bellas. Well, technically she still had to try out but come on.

 

Beca may think she's inadequate at a lot of things but not singing. Never singing. She knows she sounds good. It's one of the few constants in her life, the clear sound of her own voice. It's why the fire was so hard for her. Suddenly she couldn't talk, she couldn't sing and she didn't know how to handle that.

 

Thinking back, learning two new languages while confined to a hospital bed under strict orders to be a mute probably wasn't the healthiest course of action, especially when Beca wasn't even sure if she would be able to speak again. But there was nothing to do in that fucking room but relive ash and smoke and  _screams_ and Beca really, really needed a distraction.

 

(She never particularly liked hospitals before this but being essentially trapped in one for three months with her nightmares made Beca absolutely abhor them. The day she was released was one of the happiest she can remember)

 

Torturing herself by putting so much effort into learning languages she might never speak makes Beca think she's probably a masochist. The brunette doesn't regret it though because she thinks  _Les Misérables_  is better in its original French and Dante's  _Inferno_  was definitely better in its classic Italian.

 

(Her appreciation for literature is the only thing she'll ever thank Warren for despite how much it pains her to do so)

 

Now, though. Now Beca has her voice back and it hasn't changed. It's as good as ever and she has exactly no doubts that she'll get into the Bellas. The fact that both the singing group captains practically begged her to sing for them just cements that idea in the DJ's mind.

 

So the brunette woke up happy. She is going to get into the Bellas and ensure that she gets to see Chloe and Aubrey at least every week. Probably more than that depending on how often the seniors schedule practice. The thought alone gives her warm butterflies that she is purposefully ignoring exist because she only wants to be  _friends._  Beca hopes if she tells herself that enough it will eventually become true. She sincerely doubts it ever will.

 

She pulls herself out of bed and dresses quietly so she doesn't wake Kimmy Jin. She's craving a double shot café mocha (she and Stiles both have a huge sweet tooth and a dependency on caffeine – Stiles more so than Beca), the DJ wanders out of her dorm room a little before six and ambles off campus to her favorite coffee shop in Barden – The Pro-Caffinators. It's across the street from a Starbucks so it's never particularly crowded but that's one of the reasons Beca likes it so much. That and Tom and Stella, the owners of the shop.

 

* * *

 

She made friends with Tom and Stella the day after she moved in. She wanted her usual cup of coffee at five in the morning and refused to step foot inside Starbucks with all its loud yelling and nonsensical sizing. Then she saw The Pro-Caffinators, a small little place tucked between a pub and a bookshop and Beca just had to go in.

 

The shop was warm and smelled like rich grounds and vanilla and Beca was in love. It was perfect. The DJ knew she'd be spending many an afternoon curled up in a corner booth studying or working on a mix while she nursed her caffeine of choice. Of course, you'd never know Beca was happy to be there. She had her fuck-off glare firmly in place, unconsciously slipping it on the moment she came in contact with people.

 

Stella was unperturbed, having to constantly deal with many a soul who was decidedly not morning people. But Tom saw her and decided to make it his mission to make her laugh. The shop had just opened so the daily pun wasn't up yet.

 

(Every day Tom writes a joke on the chalkboard above the register. It's usually coffee related, sometimes not and often accompanied by a little cartoon. The puns are terrible and clever and it puts a smile on Beca's face every time she reads the board)

 

So while Beca waited for her coffee, the silver haired man subtly placed himself in front of Beca, purposefully thinking of pun ideas out loud and watching her reaction to each one. At first the brunette ignored him, just wanting to get her coffee and go. But the puns and the jokes just got funnier and funnier and Beca stuck around even after Stella handed her the double shot mocha because she was smiling, causing Tom to smile in return.

 

But the older man continued, determined to get his laugh. It happened a few jokes later ("What's the difference between a Starbucks latte and a whore? Nothing, they both suck and empty your wallet!") and Beca was snickering in amusement. Tom did his soon to be customary victory dance and declared Beca his new quality control for the joke board.

 

The brunette remembers giving him a look and asking "What makes you think I'll be back?" And Tom smirked in a way Beca didn't know sixty-year olds could and replied "Because friends don't let friends drink bad coffee and you're holding that cup like you're a non-believer who just found religion."

 

Beca glanced down at the paper cup she was clutching protectively to her chest; both hands wrapped securely around it then glanced back up at Tom. She slowly tilted her head forward, silently saying point won and Tom pumped a fist in the air, cheering energetically like a much younger man. Stella whapped him with her dish towel and told him to act his age to which Tom replied "But I'd much rather act my shoe size" with a wink in Beca's direction.

 

Right then Beca decided that she wasn't ever going anywhere else for her coffee and she doesn't.

 

She learned about a week after she started going to The Pro-Caffinators that Tom and Stella didn't have anyone else working behind the counter with them. So she offered to work a few shifts when she was around, to ease the burden of two of the nicest people in Barden. The shop never has rushes like Starbucks but it was still a lot of people for one person to handle.

 

(Tom was a lot of things but a barista was not one of them. He baked for the shop instead while Stella manned the counter. His espresso crinkles are to  _die_  for)

 

Stella thanked her but politely declined saying that they couldn't afford to hire another employee, part-time or otherwise. Beca shrugged and said okay before walking behind the bar and preparing the next persons order. Stella just looked at her and shook her head saying that the brunette was one of a kind. She then proceeded to lightly slap Beca with her ever present dish towel and showed the student the proper way of making a Café au Lait.

 

(An unintended consequence of Beca's new unpaid part-time job is that Stella refuses to make her pay for her coffee)

 

(Beca puts the money in the tip jar instead)

 

(Stella always gives Beca the tips, much to the brunette's chagrin)

 

(Tom laughs and says they're stubborn in all the same ways)

 

* * *

 

Beca doesn't help out every day. Sometimes she just grabs her morning coffee and goes, other times she stays at the shop all day, making orders or reading in her corner booth, only leaving for classes. It's nice, having a place where she can be alone without being alone. And she adores Tom and Stella. They're cute in a way only old happy couples can be. They talk to her when she wants to talk and leave her alone when she doesn't and ask about her life in that grandparent fashion that Beca has never had before.

 

Today is no different. She gets her coffee, smiles at Tom's joke ("A yawn is a silent scream for coffee") and rolls her eyes at his answering crow of victory, silently counting down the 3, 2, 1 before Stella hits him with her dish towel. Then she sits in her corner booth with  _The Great Gatsby_  until seven when the shop picks up, people coming in for their morning fix.

 

Beca slips on her black apron and helps Stella make the drinks but never stands in front of the register herself. Talking to strangers isn't one of her favorite pastimes. Except Stella is busy making a half and half with two pumps of hazelnut and a sprinkle of vanilla and Beca isn't doing anything.

 

So the brunette huffs, puts on her big girl britches and a ridiculously fake smile then steps up to the register.

 

Only to be met with a mop of brown hair and an irritatingly smug grin, both of which is the reason for her day turning to shit.

 

* * *

 

Beca doesn't hate Jesse.

 

The DJ can see why someone might think so. She glares when he stands in front of her, snarls when he touches her, rolls her eyes when he talks about movies, doesn't speak to him if she can help it and only replies with biting sarcasm if she can't. But she doesn't hate the kid.

 

Honestly, Beca doesn't think she's known Jesse long enough to hate him. They met two Tuesdays ago at the radio station and have had four shifts together since. She had arrived right on time for her afternoon shift and met the station manager Luke who is a little too British for her taste. He also calls her Becky but before the DJ can tell him her name is actually Beca, Jesse Swanson runs into the room and the opportunity to correct the Brit seems to pass. Beca will forever be Becky in his eyes. Great.

 

Jesse is childish and eager and seems to recognize her. It's weird because she knows she doesn't know him and he's nowhere near old enough to remember her from before. Plus he doesn't feel like a Barden native so really, there's no way for him to know who she is. Yet he's convinced and Luke doesn't care so Beca shakes it off as unimportant, and figures the kid's probably in one of her classes or something.

 

Unfortunately for Beca because Jesse apparently recognized her, he seems to think he's her new best friend. He keeps of chattering about how stacking CD's lame, which it is but it's also paying your dues. You start at the bottom to get to the top. It's something Beca has always understood. So she stacks without argument and is exasperated at Jesse's bitching.

 

He's trying to commiserate with her about how much this sucks but doesn't seem to understand that she doesn't care. Eventually the other brunette gets the message and stops trying to talk to her (much to Beca's relief) and they stack quietly, the only sound being the radio playing in the background.

 

It's fine. The DJ wouldn't say nice because it's not but it's not awful either. Well, it's not until their shift is over at 3 and Jesse insists on walking Beca to her next class. He's shocked when he learns all her classes are before noon (despite her surly attitude, Beca is in fact a morning person) but insists on walking her to wherever she's going next.

 

She was planning on going back to the coffee shop and giving Stella a hand with the afternoon rush or hand Tom ingredients as he (hopefully) makes caramel butter pecan bars.

 

Except now that's not going to happen because The Pro-Caffinators is  _her_  place and Beca doesn't like sharing things that are hers. Just ask Derek. You wouldn't believe the hell Beca gave him for daring to date her brother (they're friends now but it was a long scary road getting here). Instead, Beca decides to spend some time in the library working through her calculus problem set. That way Jesse (who is still following her like a lost puppy) won't find her coffee shop and will hopefully leave her alone.

 

He doesn't.

 

The brunette boy decides that he wants to go to the library as well and of course picks a seat right next to hers. Beca lasts all of half an hour before she's excusing herself, sneakily grabbing her stuff and fleeing the library.

 

It's an hour later sitting next to Tom as he mixes a fresh batch of caramel that she realizes Jesse was probably flirting with her. She groans audibly and buries her head in one hand, waving off Tom's concern with the other. She lets herself wallow in self-pity for a bit (dealing with some teenage boy's crush when she is no way interested is  _not_  her definition of fun) then decides to very clearly tell Jesse that she's not going to date him.

 

Which she does. The next day they have another shift at the same time. The moment Jesse walks in the door Beca marches up to him and says "We're not going to be dating. Like ever. It will literally never happen." The boy blinks nonplussed before nodding confusedly. Beca just nods back because that settles that and continues to stack CD's ignoring Jesse completely.

 

Apparently that does not settle that. In fact, it made it worse. Jesse seems to have taken her declaration as a challenge, upping the flirting and keeps on 'escorting' her places because their lives are apparently one of his movies and she's a fragile damsel. Never mind the fact that she knows two martial arts and has a slight fascination with throwing knives.

 

(But not guns. If she never touches a gun again, it'll be too soon)

 

Granted, Jesse doesn't know that and Beca has no inclination to tell him because sharing information about oneself is how friendships are formed and the DJ does not want to be Jesse's friend. So she just grits her teeth and ignores him harder (if that's possible) and hopes beyond hope that he'll eventually leave her the fuck alone.

 

He doesn't, obviously, and now he's in  _her_ coffee shop with a shit-eating grin that makes her want to break all of his teeth.

 

Beca takes it back. She definitely, without a doubt,  _hates_  Jesse Swanson.

 

* * *

 

"So is this where you run off to after our shifts? I got to say it's a cozy place. I like it. I think I'm going to have to come here more often." Jesse says with a white smile and boyish charm. He sounds pleased with himself and Beca is barely holding back the urge to scream. She should probably answer him, tell him to stay the fuck away from  _her_  place, to say  _something_  but she's afraid of what will come out of her mouth if she does.

 

(She can be as vicious with her words as Judy was, dismantling a person with their insecurities until all that's left is a sad little soul with broken armor. It's not a talent she's proud of and no matter how much she dislikes Jesse, he doesn't deserve that. No one does)

 

Stella, bless her soul, seems to realize something's up before Beca can explode on the boy because she glides up behind Beca and gently prods her out of the way of the register. The DJ takes the out Stella is giving her and retreats back to the coffee machines pretending to be busy.

 

"What can I get you young man?" Stella asks, kind and grandmotherly but Beca can pick out a protective edge in the older woman's voice that confuses her. Yet, she ignores it in favor of listening to Jesse's response.

 

"The number of the beautiful brunette behind you."

 

Beca grits her teeth at that and doesn't have to think hard to imagine the pleased smile Jesse is undoubtedly wearing. He probably thinks he's smooth and it just rubs the DJ the absolute wrong way. Stella, too judging by her response.

 

"I'm afraid it's not policy to give out the numbers of our employee's." Beca stifles a snort of amusement because Stella and Tom refuse to call her an employee, instead introducing her as a friend of the place when need be. And the thought of them having an actual policy besides not letting Tom anywhere near the coffee machines is hilarious.

 

"But it is policy to make an order so what can I get you?" Stella finishes pleasantly and there's a pause like Jesse's not sure what to say, clearly not having expected to be shut down so fast and easy by Stella who is honestly the textbook definition of a sweet old lady.

 

"Uhh, just a regular coffee please?" He asks eventually and Beca glances back to see him scratching his head and she really wants to laugh but the DJ knows it'll probably only end up encouraging the boy so she stays quiet and goes about making his drink.

 

She finishes quickly (there's no slow way to make a regular coffee) but before she can hand it to the other freshman, Stella takes it from her hand and passes it to Jesse with a smile and a "You're welcome" to his "Thank-you."

 

He stalls a bit at the counter, probably hoping to strike up a conversation with her but Stella stares him down with a pleasant smile until Jesse turns away awkwardly and sits down at a table. Beca thanks whatever gods exist that he didn't choose  _her_  table. She's still pissed as fuck that Jesse even dared to enter The Pro-Caffinators but her anger is currently outweighed by the gratefulness she feels towards Stella, especially when the older woman doesn't even ask for an explanation, just breezes by with a "He really didn't seem you're type, dear. Too much sausage in his soup, you know what I mean."

 

Beca adores Stella. And Tom. She absolutely adores them both. For forever and always.

 

The next few hours pass by in a rush of orders and pointedly ignoring Jesse. He still hasn't left the coffee shop, only leaving his booth to buy one of Tom's lemon squares and an iced tea. Each time Stella handles the order, preventing Jesse from interacting with Beca and the DJ grows fonder and fonder of graying woman with each of Jesse's failed attempts.

 

It's nearing twelve when Beca has had enough. The Bellas auditions are at noon and she still needs to run back to her dorm to change her shirt (someone had spilled coffee down it around eight before Jesse entered the shop) so the brunette boy needs to go so Beca can leave.

 

The DJ doesn't dare go before him because it's painfully obvious that Jesse is waiting for her to leave so he can 'escort' her wherever she needs to go. Seeing as that's her dorm where she  _lives_ , it's not happening. Stella seems to pick up on her frustration because she pats her arm consolingly and offers her another lemon bar because that's about all the older woman can do. It's not against any sort of rule to hang around a coffee shop. In fact it's pretty much expected.

 

Beca takes it and smiles gratefully, causing Stella to give her another little pat before going back to the register to field customers. Beca eats the bar slowly, savoring the citrus flavor. Tom really is a phenomenal baker. When it's gone the brunette is actually a little disappointed. She debates getting another one (it's not like Stella will ever charge her for it) then regretfully decides against it. She'll get another one later.

 

That decided, Beca looks up and scans the coffee shop, expecting to see Jesse at his table and is pleasantly surprised to see he's nowhere to be found. She glances at the display window and happily watches as Jesse walks past it and out of sight.

 

_Finally_  she thinks then resolves to wait another ten minutes before leaving herself just to make sure he's actually gone, despite the fact that its 10:45 and auditions will already have started by the time she gets to her dorm. Beca just hopes there are enough people that she can get changed and make it to the audition hall before try-out are finished. She swears if Jesse makes her miss this, she'll hunt him down and skin him herself.

 

_God, I hope this goes well_  Beca thinks as she races out of The Pro-Caffinators tossing a quick bye to Sheila and Tom over her shoulder. Her day started awesome then turned awful and the brunette hopes that a certain pair of seniors can make it awesome again.

 

She runs through the Barden campus with one thought in mind: _Bellas, here I come._

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Auditions

"Bree, she's not here!" Chloe says petulantly. "She said she would be – you heard her say it didn't you?" The redhead looks at her bemused girlfriend hopefully and Aubrey quickly schools her features into a more serious expression because Chloe had already yelled at the blonde a couple of minutes ago for mocking her girlfriend's pain.

"I did, Ginger Spice." Aubrey says solemnly and laughs when Chloe glares at her. The blonde senior is never letting Chloe live that one down. It's so rare that the redhead can actually be teased about something without laughing it off that Aubrey half wants to make Ginger Spice Chloe's new official nickname just to get that little glare. It's about as threatening as a puppy's growl and it's the  _best_.

"Shut up." Chloe pouts, throwing herself back in her chair. She only lasts about a minute before she's leaning forward again, arms resting on the table in front of them, staring at the entrance to the audition hall as if she can conjure the small brunette with will alone. Considering how badly Chloe wants the alt-girl to show Aubrey wouldn't be surprised if she did.

Aubrey wants Beca to show as well, almost as badly as Chloe does. The blonde senior just isn't as worried about it as Chloe is. The brunette said she'd come so she will. Aubrey may have only known the girl for a handful of hours but she can tell that when Beca says she'll do something, she does. Plus, despite the younger girl's long-suffering tone when she agreed to the auditions Aubrey could see her excitement at the prospect of trying out.

Chloe, however, refuses to be soothed until the brunette is on the stage in front of them no matter how many times Aubrey reassures her. It was after the fourth audition that Aubrey gave up on reassurance entirely and decided to just enjoy a rare instance of  _Chloe_  being the neurotic one.

"Breeeeeee…" the redhead whines and Aubrey rolls her eyes.

"Kit!" She says fondly exasperated. "She'll be here. Patience."

"I hate being patient." Chloe mutters and Aubrey rolls her eyes again.

"Never would've guessed." The blonde says under her breath and smiles sweetly when her girlfriend glares at her.

"But it's the end of auditions!" Chloe exclaims, deciding to ignore her girlfriend's comments. "It's not like I can be much more patient than I have been!"

Chloe has a point. The last audition had just left the stage, a sweet but nerdy looking boy named Benji Apple-something. He had a great voice but Aubrey is sure that Bumper won't let the kid into the Trebles. Benji is just too quirky for the arrogant dick. Shame, the boy could  _sing_.

Aubrey's retort however is interrupted by Tommy, the audition launcher. "If you two are done with whatever it is you're doing, there's one more." He calls irritably. Tommy then stalks off stage muttering about falling standards of a cappella and how he said this isn't a place for that Glee shit.

The seniors look up startled, ignoring the Treble's sniggers with an ease that comes only from practice. There sitting cross-legged in the middle of the stage, eyebrow lofted, is Beca. She has her chin in her hand and a smile on her lips.

"Am I interrupting?" She asks mildly, her navy eyes twinkling in amusement. The seniors look at her with their jaws dropped for a few more moments before matching wide grins overtake their faces. Aubrey is briefly grateful that the Treble's are sitting up in the bleachers behind them and can't see her face. The shit she'd get from them is ridiculous.

(Bumper loves to taunt her about her 'unrequited crush' on Chloe and tells her that she should just accept her lesbianism already because all her angst is affecting his vocal chords)

(Aubrey always kind of wants to kiss Chloe senseless in front of him out of spite but never does because it would just make Bumper even more insufferable than he already is, saying he knew he was right and that he was glad she finally listened to him)

"Never." Aubrey says so only Beca and Chloe can hear. Beca's smile grows softer for a moment and she quietly replies "Hi."

"Hi." Chloe responds, stupid grin still on her face. Beca looks at them both for another beat or two before she glances up at the auditorium. Aubrey can practically see the DJ becoming uncomfortable as she realizes there are other people in the room and it's not just the three of them.

(Aubrey has never been so pissed that a cappella auditions are a group event)

Beca sneaks another peek at her and Chloe then clears her throat and returns her voice to normal conversational volume. "So, I didn't know we had to sing that song."

She sounds awkward, like it's her fault and Aubrey wants to hit herself. Of course Beca didn't know they had to sing "Since U Been Gone" the audition song for that year because neither she nor Chloe told her that she had to.

"That's okay." Chloe quickly reassures. "Just sing whatever you like." Aubrey nods in her agreement when Beca glances over at her. The brunette then points to a yellow cup full of pens that's sitting on the table between them.

"May I?" she asks nervously and Chloe gestures to it in a 'help yourself' motion. With another uncomfortable grin Beca leans forward and plucks the cup off the table, emptying it and settles herself back on the stage. She glances at them quickly before taking a steadying breath and starts tapping out a beat using the cup.

* * *

_Clap-clap, drumdrumdrumdrum, clap-lift-slam._

Beca is nervous. She hasn't sung in front of other people in a while.

(She doesn't count Aubrey and Chloe in that statement because they don't feel like just people. They feel special in a way Beca doesn't want to think about yet)

_Clap, lift-tilt-tap, twist, slap slam._

The two of them were fine when it was just them. Just them and no one else. But now there are people spread around the auditorium. A couple rows of douchey looking guys in the back, some very serious looking preppy types off to the side and a few people who are  _definitely_  high right now scattered throughout.

_Clap-clap, drumdrumdrumdrum, clap-lift-slam._

Beca doesn't like people. She doesn't like them watching her, doesn't like them judging. And all of these people will be judging her. It's an audition after all. They're weighing her, trying to decide if she's good enough. She hates the way that feels. Hates that it already feels like she failed.

_Clap, lift-tilt-tap, twist, slap slam._

Beca feels the panic and embarrassment crawling up as she stares resolutely at her hands moving the cup. She can't do this. It was stupid of her to even try. Why would anyone want her for anything? Chloe and Aubrey were just being nice last night. Like, she just had a fucking panic attack! No one is going to insult someone after they flip all of their shits at once, panicking so hard they can't breathe. The seniors were just trying to make her feel better so they could leave. They didn't actually want her to audition. Why would they?

_Clap-clap, drumdrumdrumdrum, clap-lift-slam._

The DJ is about to stop and walk away, to save herself the embarrassment of being told she's not good enough because she never is. She's about to stop when she glances up and sees Chloe staring at her. And Beca is stunned because the redhead looks so… excited. To hear her sing.  _Her._ Beca Mitchell. The DJ looks over at Aubrey and sees a similar anticipation painted on her features.

_Clap, lift-tilt-tap, twist, slap slam._

She looks back at Chloe and focuses on cyan eyes. They're bright and sincere and Beca feels her doubts drain away. She wants her here.  _They_  want her here. They want to hear her sing. Chloe and Aubrey want  _her_.

Beca feels a smile tug on her lips as she opens her mouth and sings. Her day just got awesome again.

* * *

She's not sure why she chose this song. It's not a happy song, at least not to Beca because it always reminds her of Warren and Judy. It reminds her how they just left her like yesterday's trash. So it's not a happy song.

Sometimes when she sings it Beca sounds bitter. No one will miss her when she's gone. If they did, they wouldn't keep leaving her would they? Warren doesn't miss her, he practically threw her out of his house as fast as he goddamned could. No one would miss her. Not Warren, not Judy, not anyone.

(Well, except for Stiles and John. They'd miss her. Beca knows for fact that if she ever left them it would wreck them both. She knows it. It makes the fact that she somehow thinks that John and Stiles will abandon her all the more irrational. But it's…different somehow. Them leaving her instead of her leaving them. She knows the outcome is the same – her gone – but it's still different. Beca guesses that why it's called an irrational fear. When you know it's ridiculous but you're afraid anyway)

When she doesn't sound bitter, she sounds vindictive. Sometimes she takes a spiteful sort of pleasure singing that song. Because she doesn't miss them. Doesn't miss Warren, sure as hell doesn't miss Judy. She's better off without them despite how much it still hurts that they left in the first place.

But this time when she sings, she sounds hopeful. She sounds happy. Because this time when she sings, Beca imagines that she has someone waiting for her. Someone missing her. But the DJ isn't sad because she knows she's coming back and she knows they'll be right there waiting for her, happy to see her home.

And this time when she sings, all she sees are sparkling cyan eyes next to glowing viridian.

* * *

It's quiet when she's done. That last final tap of her cup faded away and no one is talking.

It would make Beca nervous and self-conscious except Chloe is smiling like an idiot. Seriously, Beca didn't know people faces could stretch that wide. Like Jesus, do you have to exercise your facial muscles to get them to stay like that? It's ridiculous and it makes Beca smirk in return because she did that. She made Chloe that happy; she made Aubrey glow in satisfaction.

All Beca wants to do is bask in the moment because she feels special and it feels good, damnit.

So of course it's ruined not five seconds later because fuck her life, right?

"Wow, Beca!" Jesse exclaims, practically running out on to the stage. He reaches her and hauls her up by her arms which ex-fucking-scuse you, jackass. No touchy-touchy. She rips her arms away from him and gives him a glare that would put Kimmy Jin to shame. But Jesse doesn't notice at first, too busy blathering on. "I mean, I didn't know you could sing you know? And a cappella so doesn't seem like your thing. You're all dark and mysterious so it really surprised me that you showed up. It surprised me even more when you were actually  _good_  –"

He stops mid-sentence because the idiot finally looks at her and finally sees her incredibly frightening I-will-fucking-MURDER-you-if-you-don't-leave-right-goddamned-now glare. She watches with an internal satisfaction as Jesse visibly gulps and quickly excuses himself with a hurried "I'll see you at work later, maybe, bye!"

Of fucking course he's into a cappella.

Beca turns back around with a huff then abruptly freezes because everyone is staring at her. Everyone. Not just Chloe and Aubrey (who she  _really_  doesn't mind be stared at by) but literally everyone in the auditorium.

And yup. That's way too much attention for Beca to handle right now. So she glares at the room then stalks off stage, trying very hard to ignore the upset look on Chloe's face as she goes. She can't see Aubrey's face but assumes there is a similar expression decorating it.

Fucking Jesse.

She makes it out of the auditorium and into the blissfully empty hall before she's stopped by her name.

"Beca!"

A distinct grin pulls at her lips as a familiar perky voice echoes down the deserted space. The DJ turns slowly and is unsurprised to see Chloe and Aubrey walking towards her. They stop in front of her and stand so close together that they're almost leaning on each other. Beca studies them for a second and figures they must have been together for long time if the instinct to be close to one another is so natural

"Hey!" The redhead says breaking Beca's examination. She sounds a little concerned and slightly out of breath like she ran here which is weird because both of them were walking when Beca turned around. "You okay? You ran out of there kinda fast."

Beca shrugs awkwardly. "No yeah, it's just I have work so…" She trails off with another shrug and gestures to the door behind her, completely aware that she's avoiding the question. She really doesn't want to explain her anxieties to them because they make her sound like a crazy and Beca desperately doesn't want these girls to think she's any more fucked up than they already do.

(Having a panic attack in the middle of a shower isn't exactly the exemplar of normalcy)

It's not even a lie per-say. She's always welcome to help around the Pro-Caffinators and even if she doesn't get paid, it's still work. She just, you know, doesn't have to be there right this very second. Or like at all.

Chloe nods like she understands but Aubrey is scrutinizing her like she knows there's something Beca isn't telling them. "Do you work with that kid?" She asks eventually and Beca quirks an eyebrow.

"Which kid?"

"Brown haired guy, hugged you on the stage?"

 _Wasn't a hug._  The DJ corrects in her head before tilting her head slightly. Is it just her or does Aubrey sound a little upset? She can't be sure because the blonde has a damn good poker face so Beca just lets it go and nods.

"Yeah, Jesse. I work with him at the radio station sometimes."

"Oh! WBUJ?" Chloe asks excitedly and Beca nods again. "I have a friend who works there. Luke Edwards?"

Another nod. "Yeah, he's my station manager."

Chloe grins and Aubrey's poker face doesn't change. Is the blonde upset with her? Did Beca do something? Before the DJ can really start to worry about what's probably nothing, Chloe starts talking again.

"So are you going to the station now?" the redhead probes. Aubrey gives the redhead a sharp look that Beca doesn't understand and the other girl ignores, waiting expectantly for Beca's answer.

"No." Beca shakes her head. "I work at a coffee shop in town. I was heading there now."

"Will Jesse be joining you?" Beca stares at Aubrey because this time it was not her imagination, the blonde definitely sounds upset. But why would she be? Because Jesse could be hanging out with her? No, that can't be right. Why would Aubrey even care? Would that mean that Chloe does too?

The brunette huffs at herself and pushes the thoughts out of her head. She's being ridiculous. They're just being curious. "No." Beca answers and misses the relieved looks on both seniors' faces. "Thank the lord for that, too. The kid is an annoying little shit." She also misses the satisfied look that passes between them, the one that clearly says  _Good. She's ours._

"Would you mind some company?" Chloe asks with a bright grin and continues before Beca can tell her no. "Bree and I need to decide who to let into the Bellas and caffeine always helps in tough decisions. Plus, I've been looking for a new coffee shop. The one we went to last year closed."

"Max's closed?" Aubrey says confused. "When? I could've sworn we got coffee there last we– ow!"

Beca looks at them oddly. Chloe's smiling innocently, pulling her arm from behind her girlfriends back to link it with the blonde's and Aubrey is rubbing her side, glaring at her girlfriend. Beca shrugs internally and dismisses it as unimportant.

"Isn't that cheating?" Beca teases instead, leaning against a wall and crossing her arms over her chest. "I could totally skew the results for my own nefarious purposes. I could blackmail you by withholding coffee until you let me into your group. You don't know what I'm capable of. You don't know what I've done."

Aubrey snorts gracefully and Beca is briefly at awe because how in the hell do you make a snort graceful?

"Calm down, Draco Malfoy." She says, rolling her eyes and Beca grins crookedly because she loves it when people get her references. Stiles usually does because he is a walking pop culture encyclopedia but it's nice to have some new blood laugh at her jokes. Especially since it's Aubrey. "Besides you were late," the blonde continues with a mock glare "You missed all the other auditions so you can't have some evil plan for people you've never seen. And don't even pretend like you didn't get into the Bellas. Chloe and I practically gave you an engraved invitation."

Beca laughs out loud and doesn't see the way the two seniors light up at the noise. She looks back at Aubrey conceding. "Ten points for Ravenclaw."

"Damn straight." The blonde sniffs theatrically and both Chloe and Beca laugh at her.

"Why were you late anyway, Becs?" Chloe questions and Beca ignores the warm feeling the nickname gives her.

"Mhmm that was Jesse's fault." Beca divulges and watches in confusion as both the older girl's eyes flash with anger. She continues anyway, albeit slower than before. "He wouldn't leave me alone at the coffee shop this morning. I had to wait until he left before I could go."

"Are you okay?" "How does he know where you work?"

They speak at the same time and Beca pushes herself off the wall and put her hands up in a calming gesture. She can recognize the forced calm of someone who's not very calm at all. She doesn't understand why they're upset but Beca doesn't like it. She wants to make it better.

"I'm fine." She tells Chloe first then turns to Aubrey. "He probably followed me or something. But don't worry!" she reassures quickly at Aubrey's darkening glare. "The kid's harmless."

"We're still going to chase him off next time he bothers you at your shop. Aren't we, Bree?" Chloe says bumping her shoulder with Aubrey's and smiling brightly at Beca.

"I don't know." Aubrey responds carefully. "Are we?" She asks Beca and the brunette is amazed that Aubrey somehow gets that the coffee shop is that important to her. That it's special and that the seniors might not be welcomed in Beca's place.

Beca waits for a second, expecting the same white burn of protective anger to wash over her at the thought of seeing intruders in her place like it did with Jesse. She's surprised at how unsurprised she is when it doesn't come.

She looks up at them (because they're both at least five inches taller than her) and nods shyly. "If you can handle it." She says flippantly, trying to conceal how big of a deal this is for her. She thinks Aubrey gets it anyway if the soft "We'll try our best" is any indication.

"Yes!" Chloe squeals, pumping a fist in the air and Aubrey smiles at her girlfriend's antics fondly. Beca just snickers at the redhead's exuberance.

"Come on, Ginger Spice. I'll make you the best Café Mocha you've ever tasted."

"Don't call me Ginger Spice!" Chloe says exasperatedly and Beca shakes her head with an evil grin.

"Well, now I have to." She informs the annoyed redhead much to Aubrey's delight.

"Might as well accept that you can't escape it, Kit." The blonde sing-songs and Chloe just shoves her girlfriend to the side with a huff, ignoring Aubrey's following laughter.

"You're buying me cookies at this place." Chloe tells Aubrey seriously. "Or scones. Or muffins. Or strudel. Oooh, do they have strudel?" She asks turning to Beca excitedly, all ire forgotten at the prospect of baked goods. "Because I love strudel. And brownies. And cupcakes. And –"

"Do you like bad coffee puns?" Beca interrupts suddenly causing both girls to look at her.

"Yes." Chloe says in the most serious voice Beca has ever heard her use. The brunette just smirks and says "Good. You'll love Tom" before turning and leading them out of the building.

"Who's Tom?" Aubrey calls hurrying after the DJ's retreating back, Chloe right on her heels.

Their only response is a bright laugh that puts matching stupid smiles on both seniors' faces as they catch up to their favorite new brunette. Both think that Beca's coffee shop will become their new regular place.

(It totally does)


	8. The Cut

Tom watches the three girls in the corner with a frown tugging on his lips. He's not sure what it is about the sight of the trio huddled laughing in Beca's favorite booth that has him unsettled, but something does. It's gnawing at him from some hidden place inside his brain that he just can't find.

Usually, when things like this happen Tom is content to let the thought go until it comes back to him, more defined and easily identifiable. But this is Beca. This is the young woman who came in their shop at five in the morning on her first day on campus with what was honestly the most terrifying don't-fuck-with-me glare Tom has ever seen in his goddamned life. The fact that it came from this tiny little thing who could weight no more than a 100 pounds soaking wet only seemed to make the brunette even more unapproachable.

Tom wouldn't have bothered, he really wouldn't have except that there was this moment. This awful, achingly sad moment when Beca first walked into the shop. It was like her entire face blinked. One moment it was a glacially cold façade with perpetual indifference burning in her eyes, the next… all Tom saw was a terribly young girl looking around their warm, lovingly cared for shop with such desperate longing in her eyes that it was painful. Then her face blinked once more and all he could see was that same indomitable indifference, shields firmly raised and blank.

Tom couldn't ignore it. He couldn't ignore this girl who probably tried to push the whole world away from her, glaring to death anyone who dared to come even close. He just couldn't do it. Because he knew, right in that moment that her seriously unsettling mask was just that – a mask. A mask used to hide a lonely little girl that Tom just wanted to scoop up and hug to death until she felt happy and loved.

So he pushed down his disquiet at her ridiculously cold stare – god, he's met  _gangbangers_  who can't glare as well as she can –and started throwing out bad puns. Terrible jokes that never fail to crack him up, they're so bad. He can feel Stella's curious eyes on him but he ignores her. He doesn't usually talk to their customers preferring to chat with regulars and old friends instead. Talking to this girl who's the complete opposite of friendly is out of character for him and his wife knows it.

But the brunette is  _smiling_  and her eyes looks so happy and she hasn't left yet so Tom keeps going, wondering if he can get her to laugh. The girl is probably the toughest sale he's had yet, usually he gets people in three or four god-awful coffee puns (and he shouldn't know so many but he so does) yet they've been standing there for the past fifteen minutes and she's just smiling, not laughing like Tom decides he wants her to be. So he tries harder.

"Why is a bad cup of coffee the end of a marriage? Because it's GROUNDS for divorce!"

"No? How about: Why are men are like coffee? The best ones are rich, hot, and can keep you up all night!"

"Really? Girlie, give me something! Okay how about this one: What's fat, hairy and drinks a lot of coffee? Java the Hut!"

"You're a Trekkie aren't you? Can't appreciate a good Star Wars joke without feeling turncoat, huh? Okay, okay, I'm down but not out. How about a pick up line? You can use it on a nice fella the next time you go out: They call me "coffee", 'cause I grind so fine."

"Sugar, really?! That one was gold! Guess you're not trying to find yourself a man. I can respect that, all the single ladies and what not. Okay, how about I define coffee instead: Coffee. Noun. An attitude adjustment in a mug."

"Damn, you're a hard one to please. Just keep drinking that mocha little lady, let's see if it'll adjust you into a more receptive mood to my brilliance. How about this: You haven't had enough coffee until you can thread a sewing machine while it's still running."

"Oh, come on!"

"What's the difference between a Starbucks latte and a whore? Nothing, they both suck and empty your wallet!" is the joke that gets her. It's a snicker, not a full bodied laugh like he hoped for but he gets the feeling that even this little chuckle is more than most people get. So he cheers. He does a little dance and crows and Stella's giving him this fondly amused look but after thirty-four years of marriage he can read the question in her eyes.

So he makes up some explanation about needing a "quality control" for his joke board and hears Stella snort behind him. Everyone knows that none of his jokes have "quality" in the first place, that's why they're so funny. But he wants this girl to come back so that he can make sure she smiles at least once every day. And he feels this  _protectiveness_  over this girl which is ridiculous but he does. She reminds him of his granddaughters, Tom thinks.

Mia and Antoinette are both blonde and cheery – always with a smile on their faces. Mia loves bad jokes as much as Tom does and Toni's a devious little prankster. The pair of them are 7 and 9 respectively and absolutely inseparable. Tom doesn't want to imagine a world where his little rascals could grow up as cold and alone as Beca seems. Something happened to that girl, he's sure of it and Tom hates it so he wants to make Beca happy, happy like his granddaughters. If he has to force her into being "quality control" (he smirks at the thought) to get her to feel comfortable enough in their coffee shop to thaw out then he goddamn will.

The smirk is still planted firmly on his face when the brunette's smile fades and raises a ridiculously judgmental eyebrow, coolly asking "What makes you think I'll be back?"

 _Damn_ , Tom thinks approvingly.  _Girl's got sass._  He doesn't say that though, nor does he say that he wants to her to come back because he wants to make her smile like his granddaughters. Instead he takes one look at her, smirk widening as he notices her death grip on her mocha and her hilariously protective posture over a little paper cup and says "Because friends don't let friends drink bad coffee and you're holding that cup like you're a non-believer who just found religion."

She looks startled and it's everything Tom can do to not laugh as she realizes her body's position. She looks up at him slowly and he can see the grudging acceptance in her eyes as she tilts her head forward as if to say point won. But Tom can see a twinkle of playfulness in her eyes as she does so, so he doesn't feel guilty when he jumps up and cheers. Stella, of course, hits him with her dish towel rolling her eyes.

It's a loving gesture and it makes Tom grin because, she'd been doing that since they met all the way back in home economics during their junior year of high school. He'd been as much of a child then as he is now. It's no surprise when Stella scolds him to act his age.

Tom just winks theatrically at Beca and tells them that he'd much rather act his shoe size. It's so much more fun to be 11 than it is to be 52. The brunette chuckles at their antics, her navy eyes much warmer than they had been. She walks away, hands still wrapped firmly around her caffeine but she glances back once before she goes. Tom sees resolve harden in her eyes, knows she coming back then she's gone, out the door to start her day at 5:45 in the morning. The older man shakes his head. Only crazy people voluntarily get up before 6 in the morning, especially if they're in college. It's a damn good thing he's crazy too or else befriending this girl would be a bad idea all around.

* * *

She comes back the next day, up at same ungodly hour as Tom and Stella. There's literally no one else in the shop. They haven't even finished opening so there's still chairs up on tables and what not. Tom is running late, finishing a batch of brownies in the back. When he walks up front ten minutes behind schedule with arms full of trays of fresh out of the oven goodies, he's surprised to see the small brunette already in the shop.

He's even more surprised that she's walking silently around the shop, putting down chairs and wiping tables with what he's certain is Stella's dishrag. The older man quickly arranges his baked goods inside the glass display cases before whirling on his wife.

"How come I don't get to play with your towel of doom!" He whines playfully, tugging theatrically at his wife's black apron. Stella's hands whip down to pat her sides, her eyes widening. She glances rapidly between Tom and Beca, jaw agape and Tom bursts out laughing.

"You didn't know she had it?" He wheezes, both delighted and appropriately awed. His lovely wife guards that rag like it was one of her own children. Husband or no, Tom wasn't allowed to touch it for penalty of having a limb removed. He's not sure how long she's had it, it feels like forever and it's been a permanent fixture of her appearance for as long as he can remember. It's downright unnatural to see Stella without that damnable dish towel.

The fact that Beca took it without Stella knowing is a feat worthy of epic poetry. Seriously, Tom is going to write a huge ode to this day. Actually no, Tom can't write. The extent of his literary genius is rhyming "black" with "lack". So, no Tom isn't going to be writing poetry, hopefully for never. Maybe he could find some broke college student to do it for him. Yes. He could pay them in coffee. All these kids look like the need a caffeine mainline into their system, anyway. He'll give them their daily fix in exchange for poetry. A masterpiece detailing the magnificent legend of Beca and the Cunning Theft of the Dish Towel of Doom. It'll be glorious.

Stella still looks dumbstruck and doesn't answer and Tom finally gets his giggles under control just in time for Beca to finish setting up their shop. She casually saunters up to the counter, gently folds the towel, slides it over the counter to Stella and quietly orders an iced coffee. Stella stares at the dish towel then at Beca, back to the dishtowel before snatching it from the counter and placing it carefully in the waistband of her apron. She turns to make the girls coffee then pauses, staring at the brunette with a stern expression. "Mine." His wife raises to of her fingers, points them to her eyes then points back at Beca who simply stares at them with a bemused expression.

Bemused might be a little strong of a term. The brunettes face doesn't really change but Tom can see her eyes soften and her lips quirk the tiniest bit upward. He counts it as a win. Stella brings Beca her coffee and the girl pays. She turns to Tom, tilts her head at something behind him, raises her cup, tweaks her bendy straw, winks then smirks as she walks away.

He turns around, sees his joke board and laughs harder. Written on it is one of his "What Your Coffee Says About You" series. Today is Iced Coffee: You're assertive and outspoken. You don't let season dictate how you live your life. Also, you totally like straws.

Stella watches her go, left hand fingering her dish towel and says loudly right before Beca reaches the door "I'm adopting that girl." She says it in such a definitive voice that Beca pauses and Tom nods enthusiastically while whining playfully "Nooo! I saw her first! She's mine, all mine!"

Tom can't see her face but he's sure she's smiling as the brunette finally pushes out of the store.

* * *

The pattern held for the rest of the week until the next Sunday when Beca comes in three hours late. Tom was honestly one edge the entire morning because he was terrified that something had happened to the girl or worse, she had decided that she just didn't want to come anymore.

So it's probably with an odd amount of relief that Tom sees a vaguely apologetic Beca enter their shop around 9 in the morning. She ignores the long line easily, strolling up to where Tom's stocking the baked goods and halting. He can see she's nervous and on-edge and is curious as to why. It's honestly the most emotion he's seen on her face that isn't semi-mocking laughter at his jokes. "Overslept" is all she says and Tom is skeptical. She doesn't look rested, in fact she looks like shit. Her eyes have dark circles and her face is paler than it usually is. Her navy eyes are a little bloodshot. But Tom nods easily and offers her an espresso crinkle then gently takes her arm and leads her to what would become her favorite booth.

The moment he touched her, the girl gave a full body flinch but she followed easily enough. Tom noticed that when they finally sat she put as much space between them as she could without it being obvious. She also doesn't look at him, instead focusing on a point right in front of his hands. Her shoulders are hunched and her entire frame reeks of tension and Tom realizes she's waiting to be scolded.

Which, no. This girl, for all her small stature, is a grown-ass woman. He may be older but it's not his place to scold her. So instead he tells stories, tales of his childhood antics, adulthood antics, how he met Stella, his marriage antics, a lot of antics. A lot of these stories are insane and ridiculous and Tom should probably be at least a little embarrassed telling them because he's done some pretty stupid stuff. He's not at all.

He realizes that it's not just some perceived slight that has the girl wound up when a loud couple walks past their little booth and Beca presses herself further into the worn vinyl. Tom realizes that she probably has a bit of a fear of people. Why else would she never walk within five feet of another person if she could help it? It had to be why she flinched when he touched her, why she gets up at five in the morning for a cup of coffee when there's literally no one around. It makes him happy then that he picked a lonely booth, oddly separated from the rest of the store.

It's somewhere in between the accidental tribal marriage to a duck and the time he was convinced he could simultaneously juggle and unicycle but before the story of the ensuing hospital visit and wheelchair races when he noticed Beca relaxing. It was after the tale of that disastrous trip to Yellowstone in '82 when Beca decides to talk herself.

Her face is guarded but relaxes as she tells him tales of her adoptive brother and father (she says their names with such love and affection that Tom is ecstatic because at least this girl has someone, somewhere who loves her unconditionally like these two must) with a small smile etched into her lips.

She tells him how Stiles (what kind of a name is that?) tried to wakeboard one time in an inner tube on asphalt with Jackson's Porsche, how her adoptive dad John was so pissed when he found out that he banned Stiles from curly fries and bad werewolf movies for a month. Apparently, the boy had an addiction and Beca had to sneak him the fries in the dead of night, stubbornly ignoring the fondly exasperated looks John would shoot her the next morning when the idiot would tumble downstairs with potatoes tucked behind his ears. Her brother is not, Beca told him, a morning person.

There were more stories and more laughs and the ice around the girl thaws with each fond re-telling until her eyes are warm and smiling just like the rest of her. It surprises Tom a little then when she suddenly stands up and walks over to the counter where Stella is swamped with the usual morning rush. He hears Stella say something about how they can't afford a new employee and figures that Beca offered her assistance.

He snorts back a laugh because of course they can afford an employee, their shop is more profitable than one would think but he and Stella don't hire anyone because they like the work. It keeps them busy. He does laugh when he sees Beca nod seriously then easily hop the counter and start fiddling with those magic coffee machines. Seriously, they must be from the future with all those buttons and knobs and levers and Tom cannot even fathom knowing what any of them do. He watches Stella hit the girl with the gentlest whap of her towel he's ever seen then immediately show her how to work those mystical contraptions. Something warm and happy expands in his chest and he knows he just adopted himself a new granddaughter whether the girl knows it or not. The fact that he's mostly certain Beca won't be opposed just makes it better.

* * *

That morning seemed to unlock a door and now it feels like Beca never leaves their shop and that probably shouldn't make Tom as happy as it does. But the girl smiles with him and sasses with Stella, helps bake treats in the back and prepare coffee. He feels like Beca needed this, a place to be besides her dorm and he's happy that it's here with him and Stella.

He know she feels the same way because one day they're elbows deep in biscotti dough when she abruptly says, apropos of nothing that she feels safe here. She immediately blushes (only ever in the tips of her ears) and focuses far too hard on the dough she's kneading and Tom can't have that because considering who it's coming from, that's probably the nicest thing anyone's ever said to him.

So he stops everything he's doing and immediately wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her loosely against his side. He knows she doesn't like being trapped, doesn't know why but respects her enough not to pry. It's a testament to how much she's come to trust him because she doesn't move and even sinks into the embrace, allowing him to drop a quick kiss to the top of her head before she pulls away and says some bitchily sarcastic comment about something or another.

Tom just grins and allows it, telling her that the back room is for baking and if she wants to sass, go sass Stella because he's a gentleman and can't hit her with a dish towel like he wants to. Beca laughs and everything is warm and fuzzy and Tom makes a promise to himself that he will do everything in his power to make sure this shop will stay this girl's safe space.

* * *

Which is why he's eyeing the trio of girls with concern, some grand-paternal instinct twinging as he watches them talk and laugh. It might just be the fact that Beca's interacting with those two girls with such ease and openness that he hasn't seen her have with anyone except himself and Stella. She's interacting with these strangers like she's known them for years and the couple is doing the same. But he knows they've only recently met because he's sure Beca would've mentioned them by now if they were someone important in her life. Tom could probably give detailed biographies of everyone Beca considers important to her, that's how much she talks about them.

It's not the fact that the blonde and the redhead are obviously a couple. It doesn't bother him at all. He remembers the day when Beca shyly told them she was gay. He'd excitedly shouted that he now had a new wingman to trade tips on how to pick up girls with then laughed when he saw her mouthing '3,2,1…' before Stella hit her with the towel significantly harder than she ever hits Beca. She never whaps Beca harder than a light swish because they both instinctively know that if Stella ever hit any harder, they wouldn't like the consequences. They also both know that Beca would be upset if Stella ever stopped her little swats because it's like a secret handshake. That she's important enough to get a gentle whap because Stella cares enough to include her, that it's Stella's show of affection.

So no it's not the gay. Or maybe it is. Tom's eyes widen as he watches the redhead say something and the usually unflappable Beca blushes, her ears turning red, smiling down at the table. He totally forgot that Beca  _could_ blush! The implications come thundering though his brain and he sighs sympathetically.

"Oh, Beca." He says sadly, a frown tugging his mouth.

"Figured it out?" Stella comments, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist. Her chin settles on his shoulder and Tom nods leaning back into the embrace.

"Firecracker has a crush." He says dejectedly and Stella hums.

"More than one, I think." She replies, nodding in the trio's direction as the blonde aww's at something Beca said then gently runs a hand over hers. Beca's ears are flaming at this point and Tom thinks it's a good thing she doesn't blush with her face or else his favorite firecracker would be in some trouble.

"Someone's going to get hurt, honey bee. Those two girls are as in love as love can be." He gestures covertly to the blonde and the redhead who are currently holding hands, have been since they entered the store. The redhead's talking, gesturing with their conjoined hands like she doesn't realize she's still holding it and the blonde just smiles adoringly, content to be waved around like a flag. Toms sees envy and jealously flash in his firecrackers eyes then it's gone, happy smile back in place. Stella squeezes his waist and Tom knows she saw it, too.

"Not a thing we can do, darling." She says quietly. "It's not out place. If she brings it up, we'll tell her to be careful but that's just about all we can do. We don't want her to think we're judging her. Safe space, remember?"

Tom nods unhappily even though he knows his wife is right. They'd made up a little set of rules when they'd realized how important their little shop was to Beca. No judgment, no allowing people to make the girl nervous, never prying, only listening and to just be there. A safety net, nothing else. A word of caution and a shoulder to cry on.

He watches Beca flush again and prays to God that these girls don't hurt his little firecracker. He knows how fragile she is, knows the tape holding her pieces together is weak at best. Her walls have always been strong but they were and always have been her only line of defense. Once you're inside, she's soft and unprotected. These two have jumped her barriers like they were nothing and it makes Tom worried. If anyone could wreck his indomitable trooper, it looks like it would be the two of them.

* * *

"Why are they staring at us?" Aubrey whispers lowly to Chloe, subtly keeping track of the admittedly adorable older couple out of the corner of her eye. Beca had introduced them as Tom and Stella, the owners of the store and her bosses. Though, they acted more like grandparents than employers. Tom had swept the little DJ in a quick but strong hug almost the minute she walked through the door, asking how her audition went, didja get in? Didja, didja didja?! Are you going to be a staaaaaaarrrrr?

His wife came over, hit him with a dishtowel and told him to hush, of course she got in she's got the voice of an angel. Beca scoffed and gently jostled Stella only for the plump grey haired woman to peck the DJ on her cheek before turning to her and Chloe, demanding their names and their life story.

They had complied, introducing themselves and telling the older couple that they were both seniors and the captains of the Barden Bellas. The thin older man had squealed excitedly and demanded very seriously that Beca be immediately added into their group to which Aubrey replied that she had been a member since the first note had passed her lips. Tom was ecstatic and enthusiastically wrapped Beca in another hug, squeezing tightly and not letting go.

Aubrey was surprised at how accepting of the embrace the tiny brunette was. She and Chloe had tried to link arms with the DJ once on the walk over. Beca had tensed immediately and Aubrey could feel her arm twitch like she was resisting the urge to pull away. The blonde had detached herself as soon as an opportunity arose and gave Chloe a look until she did as well, though not without a pout on the redhead's part.

The blonde caught the apologetic yet relieved look on Beca's face when they stopped touching her and frowned a little. The brunette had a death grip on them last night in the shower, freaking the fuck out when they tried to remove themselves from her grip. It's odd that Beca has what seems like a serious aversion to touching now. But if Aubrey's being honest, Beca doesn't look the tactile type – her discomfort just now only proving it. Maybe she just really needed something to ground her yesterday, an occurrence of necessity, nothing else.

The blonde senior isn't surprised at how sad that makes her feel. Chloe is a ridiculously tactile person. She's always touching people, like she can't survive without the physical contact. Like right now, she already trapped Aubrey's hand in her own and is swinging it back and forth as she chats easily with Beca about music. It's weird to not to be able to reach out and grab Beca because Aubrey wants to. It's a habit that's rubbed off on her from Chloe. She respects Beca enough to not make her do something she's uncomfortable with, though. Chloe, she can't say the same.

Aubrey glances over and sees that her girlfriend is still discussing the merits of rap versus rap with the DJ and yet manages to be lightly brushing the brunette's arm and shoulder, quick and gentle as she makes a point. Beca doesn't seem to notice and Aubrey is slightly in awe because she's almost certain if she tried the same thing Beca would stiffen in an instant.

She is also completely unsurprised because Chloe is just a naturally unthreatening person. The girl is bubbly as fuck and can't sit still unless she's wrapped around you like an octopus but she just makes you feel happy, like her good mood in contagious. It's hilarious sometimes how innocent her girl seems because Aubrey knows the pre-med student is damn fierce when she needs to be. Chloe has a mean right hook. Her older brothers taught her how to punch hard and fast and Aubrey has seen more than one drunk frat boy dropped, TKO. It's funny every time it happens. It's also ridiculously terrifying because Aubrey hates the idea of her girlfriend in a situation where a mean right hook is necessary, especially when Aubrey isn't there to help. She knows Chloe can handle herself but she still worries.

All the sudden, Stella is asking her how she takes her coffee and Aubrey realizes she's been staring off into space, lost in thought for a while now. She ignores Chloe's laughter to hastily ask for the café mocha because she's heard good things from a very small brunette chick with these amazingly scary ear spikes. Stella rolls her eyes and fondly mutters something about a goddamned chocolate addict as she walks to the gleaming silver coffee machines. Aubrey looks over and sees Tom finally release Beca, saying that they need celebratory espresso crinkles.

Beca agrees with more seriousness than Aubrey thinks is strictly necessary for the situation. She also thinks it's adorable.

Stella chooses to show up just then, carefully leading the trio to a cozy looking back booth a little separated from the rest of the store. She doles out the full cups, congratulates Beca then wanders back behind her counter as Tom disappears into the back.

The coffee is magic just as Beca said it was and Aubrey tells her so. So does Chloe but it's more of a series of moans that are more sexual than they should be and makes Aubrey flush bright red, fidgeting slightly and feeling hot under her collar. The blonde huffs, exasperated because not only are they in public but she also knows exactly what she has to do to get Chloe to make those kinds of delicious noises and the fact that coffee is doing the same thing has her ego a bit wounded. Beca looks unaffected except for some reddening in her ears and Aubrey is seriously surprised because, honestly? Chloe sounds like she's in a porno right now. Aubrey doesn't know if it makes it better or worse that she knows for fact that the redhead is completely oblivious to what she's doing.

Her girlfriend  _finally_  calms down and they all start debating the auditions. It mostly involves her and Chloe since they actually watched the auditions but Beca makes a few valid points and the blonde is impressed. They have a finished line up sooner than Aubrey expects and despite their rather slim pickings, there's still a handful of girls that get cut.

That was a fifteen minutes ago and they've just been talking about whatever comes to mind. It was halfway through the merits of being in jail versus being homeless when Aubrey noticed that the couple was staring at them.

Aubrey whispered the question but somehow Beca hears and sighs softly. "Ignore them, they're just being nosey."

"Are you sure, Becs?" Chloe questions quietly. "They look kind of… concerned?" Her eyebrows furrow. "Actually they look kinda sad but I also feel like they're glaring at me." She turns to face her girlfriend "Why are they glaring at us?"

Beca chuckles. "They're not glaring at you, Ginger Spice."

"How would you know?!" Chloe hisses, eyes darting between the brunette and the older couple. "Your backs to them, you can't see their faces!"

"Maybe not, but I do know them." Beca says calmly, taking a sip of mocha with a raised eyebrow at the redhead's outburst. "They're just protective."

"And we worry them?" Aubrey asks with a frown. She didn't think they were, you know, scary. Sure, Chloe is a little enthusiastic and she's a little uptight sometimes but they're totally respectable and trustworthy people. "Is it because we're older? Do they think we're going to be a bad influence?"

Beca shakes her head dismissively. "You're not that much older than me." She tilts her head thoughtfully. "No more than a couple months, I'd guess." She shrugs and finishes her drink. "You two are just the first people I've voluntarily introduced them to."

"Wait, a couple months?" Aubrey asks, shocked. She digs around in the stacks of paper in front of her and pulls out Beca's application form. She scans the contents with a furrowed brow, certain that it said somewhere that this girl was a first year. There! Incoming freshman.

"Yeah, Becs." Chloe agrees, looking over Aubrey's shoulder at the little print. She raises Aubrey's hand holding the paper. "I  _know_  you're a freshman."

"Which I am." Beca admits easily. "But I'll also be twenty-one in about two months so…" She trails off and shrugs again. She goes to take another sip of her mocha then frowns when she realizes that it's empty.

"Why the fuck are you a freshman?" Aubrey exclaims loudly, then winces because that could be taken kind of badly. Which Beca does. She watches in dismay as the DJ's face shuts down. "Extenuating circumstances." She answers coldly before standing up and stalking over to the counter. Aubrey watches her go open mouthed and feeling lost.

"Damnit." Aubrey mutters, slamming her head on the table. She feels Chloe rubbing her back gently.

"Could've said that a little better there, babe." The redhead says apologetically and Aubrey nods into the table because she definitely could've. "On the bright side," Chloe starts wryly "Tom and Stella are totally glaring at us now. Stella's even twirling her towel threateningly. Oh, no wait that's just at you because you're the tactless idiot, not me."

Aubrey twists so that one eye is open and glares half-heartedly at her grinning girlfriend. "You're not funny." She grumbles. "And we're a package deal," the blonde adds, waving their joined hands dramatically and turning back into the table "if I fucked up, you did too. Reflexive property of equality."

"I don't think that's how that works." Chloe says amused, playing with the other senior's fingers. "We're a package deal, not two of the same thing. Reflexive is when x=10 because x=10."

"Really?" Aubrey groans. "Jesus, Chlo. How am I supposed to know this shit? I'm pre-law, I haven't taken math since high school!"

"That's no excuse. We learned this in grade school, you should be able to remember it."

"Oh my god, fine. What did I say it was?"

"Reflexive property."

"Transitive property, then?"

"That's the one where if a=b and b=c then a=c. We're only a and b. There isn't a c."

"C is being a fuck up. Ergo, if Chloe = Aubrey and Aubrey = being a fuck up then Chloe = being a fuck up too. Simple math. Package deal. Transitive property of equality...suck it." She adds after a beat, twisting her head again to smirk up at her girlfriend.

Chloe rolls her eyes and huffs, pushing Aubrey's shoulder.

"Why are we discussing number properties in relation to being fuck ups?" Beca asks idly, standing next to their booth with a warm espresso crinkle and hot to-go cup in her hands. Aubrey jerks up, blushing while Chloe tries desperately not to laugh.

"Doesn't matter." Aubrey blusters waving a hand dismissively. She collects herself and says earnestly "I'm sorry for offending you earlier, by the way. There's nothing wrong with being a freshman at twenty one."

"Twenty." Beca corrects, the corners of her lips ticking up. Her gaze focuses on her cup and Aubrey feels awful. "It's not because I'm dumb." She says quietly not looking at either of them. "I have the credits of a sophomore." Her eye flick up briefly then settle back on her coffee. "AP credits. From high school."

"I didn't think you were." Aubrey says gently, wanting to take her hand but resists because she doesn't know how well that would go over. "Neither of us did." Chloe nods enthusiastically behind her and Beca's lips curl up a little more. She sighs.

"I just don't like talking about it." She admits almost inaudibly but both seniors hear. "It's just, the past couple of years…I don't like talking about it."

"And that's okay." Aubrey agrees quickly, thinking fuck it and pats Beca's hand twice, swiping her thumb across the other girl's knuckles before retreating. Beca only twitches minutely and Aubrey counts it as a win.

"You can talk to us if you want to, though." Chloe says sincerely. "We're really good listeners and we don't judge. Plus, we have sappy rom-coms and wine."

Beca shakes her head slightly, tiny grin still in place. "I don't like movies. Or wine." She adds.

"Ice cream and good music then." Chloe changes easily but raises a curious eyebrow. Beca just shrugs and Chloe lets it go. She won't forget – the girl's mind is a steel trap, Aubrey knows – but she'll let it go until Beca wants to talk about it. It makes Aubrey fall in love with her girlfriend just a little bit more. Kit's like a dog with a bone but she'll simmer down when she needs to, and Beca obviously needs her to.

The brunette studies the two of them and the seniors relax their faces, allowing the DJ to see how sincere and earnest they are. Finally, Beca nods and Aubrey resist the urge to grin like a maniac. No need to scare the shorter girl away now.

"Okay." Chloe confirms and it feels like a promise. They all stand (Beca) and sit there in silence for a moment. It's not awkward but it's not comfortable either. Finally, Beca breaks the quiet. "So you guys have the names of the new Bellas, what's next." Aubrey does grin like a maniac this time and Beca looks vaguely concerned. "That, lovely, is a surprise for us to know and you to find out." She ignores Beca's nearly audible eye roll and stands up, pulling Chloe up with her.

"It'll take a little bit to set up so the actual initiation will probably end up being on Friday after classes."

"It takes five days to set up initiation?" Beca asks and Aubrey can hear the judgment in her voice clear as day.

"No, silly." Chloe says sweetly with a shit-eating grin. "We just like to make the newbies stew. I like to imagine them in a constant state of freaking out, not sure if they made the cut or not. Freshman mental breakdowns are amusing."

Beca looks at her, mouth slightly open. "You're kind of terrifying." She says seriously after a minute then nods decisively. "I approve."

Aubrey snorts and Chloe laughs brightly. "Bye, Beca!" She exclaims then darts forward and steals a hug before Beca can stop it. The redhead lets go quickly and steps back smiling. Beca huffs fondly and Aubrey chooses the more sedate route, squeezing Beca's shoulder softly and saying her own goodbyes. Beca looks grateful at the respect of her boundaries and Aubrey sends Chloe a smug look. The redhead sticks out her tongue.

Beca rolls her eyes and walks both of them out the door, saying her own goodbye as she walks off in the opposite direction calling over her shoulder "Have fun tormenting the freshies!"

Chloe watches her go. "God, I like that girl."

Aubrey couldn't agree more.


End file.
